


Ghost

by Multiple_Universes



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Artist Katsuki Yuuri, Established Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov, Established Relationship, Fluff, Heavy Angst, Humor, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Movie AU, Psychic Phichit Chulanont, Smut, Temporary Character Death, banker Victor Nikiforov, ghost au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-05
Updated: 2019-05-22
Packaged: 2019-08-19 10:55:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 21,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16533227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Multiple_Universes/pseuds/Multiple_Universes
Summary: Victor and Yuuri are all set for domestic bliss when they finally move into an apartment together, but danger, as always, looms around the corner, ready to catch anyone who isn’t careful. They say that love is the strongest force in the universe. Can it pull them through this?An AU based on the movie Ghost with the added bonus of death being reversible.





	1. A Dream Come True

**Author's Note:**

> Quel (tosquinha on tumblr) posted really beautiful art for this AU and I was thinking about it before, but after I saw it I knew I had to write it. I decided the follow the movie and set the story in the 90s, because why not? (no idea if that qualifies it for a historic AU tag haha)

An angel rose to the skies over New York. It was pulled up by three men with a lot of grunting and swearing. It was also made out of wood that had cracked in a few places, but all that was just detail.

Yuuri Katsuki stood in one of the windows of the apartment building and reached out to the angel.

Almost there. Just a little more.

He tried to hold on to the window frame as he edged further out.

He was so close.

Someone grabbed him and pulled him into the house, almost making him scream.

He looked up into the face of Victor Nikiforov, his boyfriend of several years and, starting that day, his roommate. “You jerk!” Yuuri exclaimed. “You nearly scared the life right out of me!”

Victor laughed. “I didn’t want to see this beautiful body splattered all over the ground!”

Forgetting about the movers in the room with them, they exchanged a kiss, a hand on each other’s face.

One of the movers swore, startling both of them.

Yuuri jumped out of Victor’s arms, ready to try to catch the angel again, but Victor beat him to it: he climbed onto the window, grabbed the top frame, swung his legs out and kicked the angel with both feet.

The statue swung back and the movers caught it. Yuuri and Victor joined them to help drag the thing inside.

It was something Yuuri had made when he was still in high school and he didn't have the heart to part with it, which was why it was joining them in their new apartment. It had sparked an odd conversation between the two of them.

 

_“So you like angels, huh?” Victor asked, circling the statue and giving it a critical look._

_“I fell in love with you, didn’t I?” Yuuri countered and took Victor’s hand._

_Victor stared into Yuuri’s eyes and knew they both had the same wish in that moment._

_He could hear Yuuri’s roommate singing in the next room and did his best to keep himself under control._

_“I’m not an angel!” he protested._

_Yuuri tilted his head to the side and looked at the statue and then at Victor. “Maybe I should make another one with your face,” he said and this time Victor caught him in a kiss, not caring if there were roommates ready to walk in on them, or not._

 

The apartment building was a very old one and mostly abandoned until someone found it and started to sell apartments inside it. If rumours were to be believed, it had appeared in someone’s will and couldn’t be sold before that someone passed away. Yuuri was the one who’d discovered it and it took his artist’s eye to see beyond the cobwebs, ugly walls and piles of garbage, and imagine what it could be made into.

Victor had left all that to him. After all, he was a banker. Yuuri was the one who was an artist.

They’d spent months saving money to buy the place, worried that someone else would snatch it away from them. Just as they got enough money Victor got promoted and Yuuri ran across half of New York, dropping everything, to make the apartment theirs.

It felt so unreal now: moving in with Yuuri at last into a place of their own, more than that – into a place they had fought to make their own.

 “Where do you want this?” one of the movers asked as they carried a big mirror in.

“Over there,” Yuuri pointed. “On the far wall.”

“Victor? Yuuri?” a voice called.

Both men turned at the sound of their names. Christophe Giacometti entered the apartment with an expression of awe on his face.

Chris had been Victor’s friend since high school. They’d gone through university together and now worked for one department of the same banking company. They didn’t have any secrets from each other. Chris also had the honour of being the first person Victor had told about Yuuri.

“I really love what you did with the place,” Chris said, taking in the whole room. He’d been there to help knock walls down to open the place up more.

Victor looked around. Most of the furniture was already in place. That, along with the new coat of paint he and Yuuri had given the walls, really made the place feel welcoming.

He walked over to Chris. “I see you decided to drop by after all?”

“Thought you two could use some help.” He walked over to the corner where some of Yuuri’s newest art works stood on display. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen any of these before.”

Yuuri greeted the man with a smile and talked about the meaning behind each piece, his eyes lighting up with excitement. Victor could watch Yuuri talk about his art for hours. It was how he’d won the man over. (Yuuri claimed over and over again that no one wanted to hear him talk about art, but Victor hadn’t met anyone who wasn’t willing to listen.)

Chris nodded when Yuuri finished. “You can sell this whole place at double the price!” he told them.

“Chris, you’re obsessed,” Yuuri said with a laugh and walked over to Victor to take his hand. “We’re keeping this place for ourselves.”

All of the money in the world wouldn’t budge Yuuri out of this apartment, Victor was sure of it. Besides, Yuuri wasn’t the type to be tempted by money anyway.

Victor kissed the side of Yuuri’s head, his heart overflowing with love for the man.

“Oh no!” Yuuri exclaimed, spotting something behind Victor and slipping out of Victor’s hold to go over to it.

Victor followed, feeling his heart sink. It was his old armchair. He’d secretly hoped Yuuri wouldn’t notice it yet.

“What is this doing here?” Yuuri asked Victor, poking the chair with his finger. “I thought we both agreed to throw it out.”

“But it’s my old chair,” Victor insisted, sitting down in it as if to show how he usually used it. “I watch TV in it.”

“But it’s ugly,” Yuuri said, his voice dropping to a whisper, as if afraid the chair would hear him. He leaned against the back of the chair. “It doesn’t go with anything.”

“It goes with me.”

Yuuri stared at him in silence for several seconds before breaking into a smile. “You’re right: it does.” He stepped away with an air of mock resignation. “We’ll paint it.”

 

The morning of the next day found Victor and Chris entering their office building at the same time.

Chris held the door open for Victor to follow him in. “Good morning! Is that a new shirt?”

Victor beamed. “Isn’t it nice? Yuuri bought it for me. It’s a housewarming present and something to celebrate the promotion!”

Chris elbowed him with a laugh. “Enjoying domestic bliss already, huh?”

Something flickered in Victor’s eyes, but the smile remained on his face. “Yes!” He nodded. “It’s like I keep telling you, Chris, once you find that perfect person it just… clicks, you know?” He stopped and whispered. “Everything just clicks into place.”

Chris was silent.

“How about you?” Victor asked, remembering about his friend. “How are you feeling? What did the doctor say?”

The elevator doors up ahead opened and they rushed to join the big crowd of people entering it. As soon as they made it in the doors closed and the elevator went up.

Chris twisted his face as if he was really suffering, but Victor wasn’t fooled. “The doctor said it’s really contagious.” He coughed a few times.

Around them people shifted uncomfortably. Victor saw someone put a hand over their mouth.

Knowing what his friend was doing, Victor played along, unable to resist. “What about the rash?”

“There’s…” he coughed again. “…it’s just awful. The rash spread all over my genitals. It’s also really contagious. The doctor said I shouldn’t be coming in at all.”

The elevator stopped and the doors opened. Everyone made a run for the exit.

Victor chuckled. “You’re sick,” he told Chris, following the crowd.

“I know.” Chris grinned.

Victor knew then that there was nothing to worry about: his friend was fine.

“So, any plans for tonight?” Chris asked as they continued to walk down the hall.

“We thought we’d have a quiet night in,” Victor told him. “Yuuri wanted to go see a movie tonight, but I convinced him to go tomorrow instead.”

Chris nodded in approval. “Yeah, why not enjoy your new apartment?”

Victor spotted a secretary running towards him in a panic. “Talk to you later, ok?” He left his friend and made for his office.

He’d gotten used to sitting next to his friend with only a small partition separating them. Now he would have to get used to having a room all to himself with a door that people would have to knock before entering.

He paused right outside his door and stared at his name plate. Then, doing his best to smile, he entered.

The day flew by at a mad speed after that, going from phone calls, to meetings, to phone calls again. He barely had 15 minutes for lunch and even then his phone rang, startling him.

“Hello?”

“Victor!” Yuuri exclaimed. “Just wanted to check up on you. How is your day going?”

He relaxed in his chair. “Oh, you know, same old: just another day at the office.”

They laughed together at that.

“I was just thinking… The place is a little empty without you,” Yuuri admitted.

“I’ll see what I can do,” Victor promised, sounding business-like, but really touched by Yuuri’s words.

“I guess I just miss you. I know it sounds stupid, sorry.” He could imagine the expression on Yuuri’s face as he said those words and wished he could kiss him to convince him that there was nothing to apologize for.

“No, no, it doesn’t sound stupid at all!” Victor protested.

“Alright then. Come home soon!”

Victor put a hand over his face. His heart beat fast at the word “home”. He had a home with Yuuri now! For just the two of them and no one else!

Victor didn’t need to urge time on: it continued its mad dash for the rest of the day as he went from conference call, to meeting, to phone call all over again until he was sure he would go mad.

 

Yuuri watched Victor’s face. It was late. They’d already had their dinner and it was time to sleep now. But Victor sat on his side of the bed with a worried look on his face. The lamp at the bedside table bathed his figure in a warm light and Yuuri caught himself thinking that he could stare at the sight before him forever.

He couldn’t help the happy smile that spread over his face. Here they were – sitting in their own bed in an apartment that was completely theirs. It was a real dream come true.

Victor had pulled his shirt off earlier and Yuuri only had a shirt on, but he knew that Victor was in no mood to start anything.

“What’s wrong?” Yuuri asked, taking one of Victor’s hands in his and fiddling with it. “Worried about the promotion?”

He couldn’t see why Victor would be worried about it. In Yuuri’s mind he was sure that Victor deserved the highest position in his company, but he’d seen how stressed Victor had been when he’d come home.

Victor looked away before finally meeting Yuuri’s eye. “It’s everything, I guess. It’s this promotion and moving in with you.” There was something heavy in his eyes as he added, “Every time something good in my life happens I get worried something will come along and take it all away.”

Yuuri lowered his eyes. He’d been anxious about this as well. It was why he’d spent the whole day making clay pots. None of them had turned out particularly good, but at least it helped calm him down a little. It was odd to hear Victor admit to feeling the way Yuuri usually did. It made Yuuri even more anxious, as if it was some sort of proof that his worries were justified. He fidgeted, wishing he knew what to say to make Victor feel better and needing to hear those words himself.

“I love you,” Victor said.

Yuuri raised his head and saw the way Victor’s eyes glowed.

“I really, really love you,” he said.

Yuuri smiled. “Ditto,” he whispered.

“I want to hear you say it,” Victor insisted, a hand sliding over Yuuri’s.

“People say it all the time and never mean it,” Yuuri pointed out. “To the point where the words have becoming meaningless.”

“You believe me when I say it, right?” Victor asked, sliding a thumb down Yuuri’s nose.

Yuuri smiled. “Of course!”

“Sometimes you just need to hear the words said out loud, you know?” Victor went on. He raised one of his hands and pressed the palm against Yuuri’s cheek.

Yuuri closed his eyes. “I love you,” he whispered, leaning into Victor’s hand and putting his own hand over it. He opened his eyes, saw the look on Victor’s face and crawled across the few feet separating them.

“– killing 153 people –”

They jumped as one, startled by the harsh voice.

But it was just the TV. Yuuri realized that he’d accidentally hit the power button on the remote that had gotten lost under the blankets and sat back with an exasperated sigh.

Victor found the remote, but when he reached for the power button his eye fell on the screen and he made a pained noise. “Oh jeez!”

The TV showed the broken remains of a big passenger plane. Smoke rose from it in thick clouds and people in protective clothing searched among the remains for survivors, or maybe just bodies to take away and bury in a grave.

“Another one?” Victor exclaimed. “I should cancel my LA trip,” he told Yuuri, referring to a trip he’d arranged for work. “These things always come in threes.”

Yuuri pulled the blanket over himself, feeling the panic build up in his stomach again. “You’ll be fine,” he said, willing himself to believe that.

“That’s what those people thought,” Victor pointed out. “Scary, isn’t it? A person’s life can go out just like that,” he snapped his fingers.

Yuuri’s hand slipped under the blanket, hunting around for Victor’s. He clutched it tightly as soon as he found it, but for some reason the action didn’t bring him any reassurance.

 

Their apartment was really big, almost as big as a house. The bedroom was on the upper floor while their kitchen and Yuuri’s art studio were on the lower one. It also meant that if a person were to, say, do something on the lower floor doing their best to stay really quiet, then the person or people on the top floor wouldn’t hear anything.

The radio played something quietly in the corner as Yuuri sat at a potter’s wheel, working with wet clay, trying to shape it into another pot.

On nights like this, when he got too anxious to sleep, when he was too anxious to make any kind of art, he would make clay pots, taking his time with each one and trying out different shapes. Usually he’d spend the whole night making just one, but even that helped him feel better.

It was so calming to let the wet clay move under his fingers. All he had to do was think about the shape he wanted and try to make it. He was in a world of his own, a world of wet clay…

Footsteps in the hall brought him back to the present. He raised his head just as Victor came in, pulling a hand through his hair.

“I must’ve passed out,” he mumbled and rubbed his eyes. “What time is it?”

“2 am,” Yuuri answered after a brief glance at a clock on the wall.

Victor came up to him and they exchanged a kiss.

“I couldn’t sleep,” he admitted and returned to his pot, wet clay dripping off his fingers. He did his best to focus on the shape he wanted again.

Victor sat down behind him, one leg on either side of Yuuri. They wiggled closer to each other, giggling at each other’s touch. Victor tickled Yuuri, throwing off his concentration. The pot, or the beginning of one, paid the price, getting all twisted and bent out of shape when Yuuri accidentally hit it with his hand.

Yuuri put a hand over it with a resigned sigh and stopped the potter’s wheel.

“Oh no! I hope it wasn’t a masterpiece,” Victor whispered, a note of mischief in his voice.

Yuuri smiled and took it all apart. “Well, not anymore.” He started up again as Victor’s hands reached over his. “Just let the clay run between your fingers,” he whispered, placing Victor’s hands on the wet clay and putting his fingers on top to show Victor how to do it.

A new song started to play then, an old tune Yuuri had never heard before.

_Oh, my love, my darling,_

_I've hungered for your touch_

_A long, lonely time._

“Like that,” Yuuri whispered.

But Victor’s mind was elsewhere. He gave a little excited gasp and then his fingers slid over Yuuri’s, coating them with clay. They moved on to his elbows, sliding around from the outside in, feeling all around Yuuri’s arms.

Yuuri closed his eyes and breathed out.

_Time goes by so slowly_

_And time can do so much._

_Are you still mine?_

They weren’t going to make anything like this. Yuuri knew that. His own heart wasn’t in it anymore and he shut the machine off. He picked a cloth up to wipe his hands clean and wash Victor’s hands.

Victor used this chance to turn the volume up, filling the apartment with the song that seemed to be crashing all around them, driving them insane.

They stood before each other as Yuuri cleaned Victor’s hands with the cloth. Victor kissed him again and again, starting off with brief kisses and falling into longer and deeper ones.

The cloth fell on the floor.

Yuuri closed his eyes and they went on kissing in the semi-darkness. His hands traveled slowly up Victor’s back, the fingertips sliding over his bare skin.

Victor undid a few buttons of Yuuri’s shirt and lowered his head to press a long kiss against his chest.

Yuuri sighed.

_Lonely rivers sigh,_

_“Wait for me, wait for me.”_

Victor’s hands slid down over Yuuri’s back, past the point where his shirt ended and onto his bare thighs and then back up under the shirt.

Yuuri gasped softly, feeling Victor grip his buttocks.

_Oh, my love, my darling,_

_I've hungered, for your touch_

_A long, lonely time._

Victor picked him up and carried him up to the bedroom where he lowered Yuuri gently onto the bed.

Yuuri spread his legs as Victor lay down over him, catching a kiss that lasted much longer than all the others.

_God speed your love to me._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don’t usually use the “Major Character Death” tag, so I really hesitated before writing this fic, because if you’ve ever seen the movie Ghost that this fic is based on then you know (otherwise here is a spoiler for chapter 2 of this fic): one of the major characters dies. So, I’m going to say this right at the start: yes, major character death is what happens in this fic, but both the characters and the author will do their best to make sure that is reversed by the end!  
> Also, I really suck at tags, so if you think there is a better way to tag for this, please let me know!
> 
> PS The song in this chapter is the same as in the movie: [Unchained Melody by The Righteous Brothers ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Jj195VJWJIE) (that’s the scene from the actual movie).


	2. Don’t Leave Me

That Saturday morning was the first relaxed one in a long while. There were still boxes to unpack and things to sort out, but all of that could wait.

Yuuri waited for the toaster to spit out his bread while Victor sat at the table and drank coffee. He smiled as he took in Yuuri’s figure. The man was in big jean overalls and a small white shirt that barely poked out from under the straps.

Last night had been like nothing Victor had ever had before. They had no neighbours here (not yet, anyway). There were no roommates to be wary of. They didn’t have to be quick and careful. For the first time in Victor’s life they could take their time. And there was something magical about that.

“You know, I could have you right now,” Victor said, startling Yuuri and making him drop his slice of toast. “I could have you again and again right here. We could take turns making love to each other.”

Yuuri turned to look at Victor. A blush spread from his face to his ears and neck and even down to his arms.

Victor loved seeing Yuuri blush like that, so he took it as a sign to keep going. “I can scream for more at the top of my voice and no one would come knocking on the door, demanding that we keep it down.”

“Stop it,” Yuuri said, giving him a light push with his elbow and then breaking out into giggles.

Victor put an arm around Yuuri and kissed the side of his face. “This is what I wanted all my life – to live here with you.”

Yuuri dropped the toast onto the table, took Victor’s head with both hands and kissed him back.

 

They spent the day going through all their boxes, unable to decide which set of mugs or cups to put on which shelf.

“We should get a dog,” Victor said, sitting down on the counter and watching Yuuri cook.

Yuuri gave a little nod. There would be no argument from him.

They both loved dogs and had once gone on for a whole day home much each of them wanted one.

“Let’s go to the pet store tomorrow,” Victor said and got an enthusiastic “yes” in response.

 

It was getting late when one of the small theatres that seemed to be lost in the network of streets emptied as another movie came to an end. People walked in little groups, talking to each other about the movie they’d just watched.

Victor and Yuuri strolled arm in arm.

The night was warm and the moon was up high in the sky. It was the perfect setting for a date.

Yuuri put his head on Victor’s shoulder. “I’m going to marry you,” he suddenly whispered. “I was thinking about it all through the movie and I decided that I really, really want to marry you.”

They stopped and Victor stared at Yuuri with his mouth slightly open. They’d never brought up marriage before and Victor had secretly hoped that he would be the one to propose. But Yuuri had beat him to it somehow!

“Yuuri, are you –”

Three gunshots rang out in straight succession, tearing through the moment and shattering it into little pieces.

 

The world was full of beautiful light. White pearls of it rained down, drawing everything in. A voice sang of joy and happiness. It sang about peace.

“Victor, no, don’t leave me. Please!”

Victor blinked. There was a white column of light in the middle of the dark street and he knew without asking what it was and who was calling out to him. He had to go. Everything inside him wanted to.

But somewhere behind him Yuuri screamed in a voice that broke his heart.

“The ambulance will be here soon. Just hold on. Hold on,” he begged.

Victor turned away from the Light. There was Yuuri, holding something in his arms.

The song stopped.

Victor turned back, but the beam of light was gone. The street was as dark as before with only a few streetlamps here and there.

“Please… please… oh god,” Yuuri pleaded, rocking back and forth.

He was in pain. He was crying. Yuuri, his Yuuri, was crying.

Victor ran to him, cursing himself for not running to his side earlier. Why had he walked away anyway? What did some strange light matter when his Yuuri was suffering?

_“Yuuri, what happened?”_ he asked. _“Did they hit you? Are you hurt?”_ The rest of his questions froze on his lips.

His dear Yuuri was all covered in blood.

And then Victor’s eye fell on what Yuuri was holding and he felt his head spin.

“Oh, Victor…” Yuuri pleaded, his face wet from tears. “Victor, please… oh god…” He lowered his head again.

Victor shuddered. There he was – all covered in blood, lying helplessly in Yuuri’s arms.

And he knew then that Yuuri couldn’t hear him, would never hear him. He knew that Yuuri’s pleas wouldn’t help. Victor Nikiforov was dead.

He lowered his head and wept. But his tears wouldn’t wet the street. He was nothing more than a ghost, torn from life in an instant.

The ambulance tore down the street, wailing loudly enough for the whole neighbourhood to hear as if it too was crying for a life lost.

Paramedics jumped out, took one look at Victor’s body and told Yuuri they would take them both to the hospital.

Not knowing what else to do, Victor’s soul did what it had done all his life: it followed his body. He sat in the ambulance next to Yuuri, his body an arm’s length away.

Tears went on streaming down Yuuri’s face, but the boy made no move to wipe them off. He held one of Victor’s hands in both of his and pressed it to his lips.

The paramedics exchanged a look, but didn’t say anything.

Victor was determined to stay with his body and with Yuuri, but when they got to the hospital there were people and doors everywhere.

Victor tried to follow everyone else, but a nurse made straight for him, pushing a patient in front of him and there was nowhere to run.

The nurse walked straight through him, leaving behind an impression of something painful and disorientating.

Victor stood in the hall and screamed in terror. _“Oh god! Oh god help me!”_

His head spun and he tried to lean against one of the chairs, but his hand passed straight through it, making it worse. He dropped to his knees, certain that he was about to throw up, even if he didn’t have anything to throw up.

_“Hello!”_ someone’s voice cut in from somewhere to the side of him.

He turned instinctively and saw an old man with a grin on his face. _“Are you… talking to me?”_ Victor asked, rising unsteadily to his feet.

_“Of course I’m talking to you. Those others can’t hear me, now can they?”_ the old man waved dismissively at the people around them as if only idiots couldn’t hear ghosts speak. _“You’re new here. I can tell.”_ He gave a little wink and sat down in one of the chairs. Throwing a look around them, he motioned Victor closer, as if he was about to impart a great secret that he didn’t want anyone else to hear. _“Let me tell you a thing about doors. They’ll freak you out at first, but really they’re not such a big deal.”_ He waved his hand dismissively. _“Just step right through. You’ll get the hang of them eventually.”_

A loud noise interrupted their conversation and they both turned to watch a group of medics panic in one of the operation rooms as the patient’s heart flatlined.

_“He’s not gonna make it,”_ the man said. _“I’ve seen this happen hundreds of times.”_

A beam of light shone over the body, but none of the medics seemed to notice it or the faint outline of a person that rose towards it.

_“See?”_ the man said in a triumphant tone of voice. _“Here they come. Good thing it’s not the other ones, huh?”_ He chuckled.

The figure vanished and the light disappeared.

Victor watched the medics slow down and give up. Then, with resigned looks on their faces, the majority of them walked out. Someone swore softly. Someone else covered the body with a blanket.

It was all over. Just like that.

_“Who…”_ Victor turned, but the man had vanished.

He felt lost. At times he was sure it was all just a dream and nothing more. Any minute now he would wake up from his bad nightmare. Any minute now he would be back in his bed next to Yuuri and everything would be fine.

But everything remained not fine. He and Yuuri were still as cruelly separated as before.

Victor’s soul wandered about. He couldn’t remember how he made it to his own funeral, but one minute there was the hospital and the doctors looking down at his dead body and the next he was out in the middle of a graveyard standing with a crowd of people listening to a priest say something over Victor’s coffin.

Yuuri went on weeping, inconsolable in his grief. He was all in black. Victor couldn’t remember if he’d ever seen the boy wear all black before.

Chris was at Yuuri’s side, one arm around his shoulders as he whispered something into Yuuri’s ear to try to soothe him but Victor knew it wouldn’t help.

Yuuri clung to him, squeezing Chris’ hand in a way that must’ve been painful…

 

Then everyone gathered in their apartment. Someone’s kids sat on Yuuri’s lap as he talked to one of the guests, his face still wet, the tears still coming.

One by one they all left, murmuring their condolences as they returned to their lives and left the grief behind them.

Chris was the last to leave. He embraced Yuuri and held him tight. “You need anything – you let me know, alright?” He pulled away and looked into Yuuri’s face.

Yuuri nodded, not even trying to smile.

And then Chris, too, was gone.

Yuuri changed back into his overalls. He washed the dishes and cleaned the apartment, taking his time, in no hurry to finish.

Once he cleaned the apartment to his satisfaction he dropped onto the couch in the living room, too exhausted emotionally to go up to the bedroom, and fell asleep.

A week went by during which Yuuri locked himself away from the rest of the world. He didn’t go outside. He didn’t answer the phone. He just made pots, or rather – remade one pot over and over again, breaking it up when he neared completion and starting from the beginning.

Victor sat and watched, wishing he could get Yuuri to go outside. He was sure that a change of scenery would help him. There was an unhealthy pallor in Yuuri’s face that was starting to really worry Victor.

A knock on the door made them both look up and then walk over to it.

“Who’s there?” Yuuri asked.

“It’s me,” Chris’ replied. “I brought a box of Victor’s stuff from the office. I thought you’d want to keep at least some of it.”

Yuuri unlocked the door and let Chris in. “Hey,” he said softly.

“Hello.” Chis put his arms around Yuuri, pulling him into a tight hug. “I called but I must’ve just missed you,” Chris added, releasing Yuuri and taking in his appearance.

Yuuri lowered his eyes.

“You don’t look so good,” Chris said, rubbing Yuuri’s shoulders. “Don’t tell me you’ve been sitting in here for the past week.”

“I have,” Yuuri admitted quietly. “Is there something wrong with that?”

“Yuuri! It’s a nice day outside! You should go out for some fresh air and enjoy the sunshine!” Chris told him.

“I’m fine here,” Yuuri said, backing away. “I have stuff to work on.”

Chris sighed and gave a little shake of his head. Then he raised the box in his hands. “Let’s go through this and then go out for a walk, okay? Just a little walk. It will help you, I promise.”

Several moments of silence passed. Victor waited to hear what Yuuri would say, thanking Chris over and over again in his mind.

“Alright,” Yuuri agreed.

They spent a long time going over the contents of the box. When Yuuri took out the photo Victor had kept of the two of them on his desk he burst into tears again.

Chris comforted him as best as he could. He got Yuuri a glass of water and hugged him and then, very gently, he set the photo down on a table and talked Yuuri into getting his jacket and going outside with him.

Victor followed them out and, for a brief moment, he could imagine it was the three of them out for a stroll together, like it had been so many times before, just three friends out to enjoy the sunshine together.

They made a circle around the block, but it didn’t raise Yuuri’s spirits. After a second circle Chris gave in to the inevitable and walked Yuuri back to his apartment where he left him on his own.

Victor watched Yuuri go through the box, stopping to slide his fingers over Victor’s neat writing on some of the papers. He found the old mug Victor had kept in his desk for coffee and placed it on the table as if expecting that any minute now Victor would return and drink out of it again. The rest of the box’s contents weren’t very interesting, not even Victor’s old address book.

Yuuri returned to the photo, spending some time trying to decide where was the best place for it. Finally, settling for a spot near the potter’s wheel he returned to making pots.

Victor sat on the floor near him and watched, his hands folded over his raised knees.

“I dreamt about you last night,” Yuuri suddenly admitted and Victor shifted closer. “And when I woke up I was sure you were there beside me.” He raised his eyes to the ceiling as new tears rolled down his cheeks. “It’s like I can feel you near me all the time!”

_“Oh Yuuri!”_ Victor got up and walked over to Yuuri, reaching out for the artist’s hands. He held his fingers right over Yuuri’s and looked into his face, remembering what it was like to touch Yuuri’s hands.

“It’s getting late,” Yuuri said, glancing at the clock. “Maybe I’ll dream about you again…” He sighed and rubbed the tears off with his elbow. “I keep thinking: if I didn’t insist we go see that stupid movie, you would’ve still been here with me!” The tears came harder this time.

Victor sighed. If only there was some way for them to talk to each other! If only he could tell Yuuri not to blame himself. If they could just talk, if he could just tell Yuuri that he was still here and still watching over him…

Yuuri sighed, turned the potter’s wheel off and left to wash his hands. He wiped them on a towel and then froze. He turned slowly, as if afraid of what he would see.

His eye fell on Victor, he was sure of it. It wasn’t Victor’s imagination, or wishful thinking. The boy was actually looking at him.

“Victor?” Yuuri asked, making a single step forward.

Victor stood still and waited.

Yuuri lowered his eyes. “I’m going crazy,” he told himself and left the room.

 

It was hard, so very hard to keep going when everything in the apartment reminded him of Victor. There was his ugly chair that Yuuri knew he would never have the heart to paint now. Around him were the walls they’d painted together, exchanging smiles and nudging one another with their elbows. The bed still smelled like him and the closet was full of his shirts.

Yuuri had wept until he was sure he had no more tears left. He tried to make more pots, but even that proved impossible.

He felt as if Victor was still there, as if any minute now he would walk into the room and talk about something, or just pull Yuuri into a kiss.

Yuuri went up the stairs to their bedroom. Maybe a hot shower would calm him down enough to sleep. He opened the closet and stared at the long line of Victor’s shirts. He pushed a few aside to give himself some space and stepped in between them.

If he closed his eyes and put his hands on the clothes hanger like this, the height was just right to pretend that Victor was still there with him.

“What do I do now?” he whispered. “How do I go on?”

He held his breath and was absolutely silent for several minutes, but no one answered him.

With a resigned sigh, he took his clothes off and went to take a hot shower before bed.

He’d looked forward to showers and baths together, but they didn’t have enough time together to do even one.

As the water streamed down his skin he stared at his feet and thought, _really_ thought about what to do next.

Sell the apartment? But they’d put so much effort into buying it! Victor would be furious, if…

Yuuri put his hands over his face.

The tears were chocking him again, but this time he managed to swallow them back down. He had to be strong. He had to _do_ something.

But what?

If only there was some kind of sign, or a hint, or something!

He finished his shower and turned the water off.

Sleep, eat, work – what else was there? Go on, continue, day after day, asking himself what it was all for.

He sighed and pulled the curtain away to step out. But he froze with one leg raised as soon as his eye fell on the mirror.

The hot water had filled the room with steam and fogged up the glass and over there – he could just make out words that someone had very carefully traced out with their finger.

_I love you, Yuuri._

And a little heart under it.

Yuuri stared open-mouthed. When did that get there? Had it been there before? Did Victor draw it there, hoping to surprise Yuuri one day after he took a hot shower?

Yuuri pulled a towel around him and walked up to the glass. He reached out with his finger, but didn’t dare touch the glass, as if afraid that the words would disappear.

“Ditto …” he whispered.

He wished he could keep the glass always fogged up, so he would always see the words Victor had left for him in his neat writing. With time the words would fade away and, yet, they’d always be there.

_If only I had more time! I just wanted more time!_ Yuuri lamented in his head. _I know that everyone dies, but why so soon? Why couldn’t I have a year at least of this – enjoying all this? And then at least I’d know that we had something for a little while. But a few days?_

He stuck his feet in a pair of slippers and left the bathroom. He looked around the bedroom, remembering how they’d slept next to each other, leaning into each other’s touch. How could he sleep in their bed after that?

His eye fell on the stack of books on Victor’s side of the bed. Curious, Yuuri walked over to it and turned the top one over.

_A Guide to Dog Breeds._

He looked at the next one.

_Man’s Best Friend._

The whole pile was just books about dogs. Yuuri shuffled through them, feeling the tears trickling down his face again.

“Tomorrow,” he said, “I’ll go buy a dog for us, tomorrow.”

He dropped onto the bed and opened the top book. There was a little piece of paper inside between two pages about poodles. There was even a name scribbled on the piece of paper.

Makkachin.


	3. Three Pieces of Proof

_Victor made sure to arrange everything for his date with Yuuri. He asked his roommate, Chris, to spend the night somewhere else and bought flowers. He cleaned the whole apartment and dressed in his best clothes. He cooked a big and elaborate meal and then covered the table with the fanciest tablecloth he had, placing the best dishes on top of it. And, of course, he made sure to buy a few things he would need if his date with Yuuri went well._

_Chris had laughed about all of that. He brought dates over all the time and never cared if Victor walked in on them (as Victor had learned much to his own embarrassment on his first week living with Chris)._

_But Victor wanted things to be done properly. He dated Yuuri for a good year, giving them both time to really fall in love with each other. Now he was determined that their first time would be perfect._

_The doorbell rang and Victor ran to answer it._

_Yuuri stood in the hallway, looking more handsome than ever. He was in a pair of jeans and a white shirt, the top two buttons of which were left undone._

_“Hello!” Victor exclaimed, doing his best not to stare at the buttons for too long._

_“Hello.” Yuuri blushed before giving Victor a shy kiss on the cheek._

_Victor opened his mouth to insist that Yuuri didn’t have to be shy and saw the way Yuuri was looking at him. It very similar to the way he was looking at Yuuri himself._

_Victor offered his arm and led Yuuri to the dinner table where he presented all the dishes he’d cooked for the two of them._

_“Looks delicious,” Yuuri said with a smile._

_“What art project are you working on now?” Victor asked._

_“You don’t want to hear about my art project,” Yuuri protested._

_“I do,” Victor assured him. “I want to know exactly what it is, so I can figure out if volunteering to be your model is a good idea or not.”_

_Yuuri burst out laughing._

_Victor smiled and shifted closer. He placed his chin in his hand and watched his boyfriend start to explain the project and then apologize that Victor really couldn’t help him with it._

_“Hmmm… I don’t know,” Victor said. “I think I can model for an abstract concept.”_

_Yuuri giggled._

_Victor shifted even closer until his knee brushed against Yuuri’s._

_Yuuri didn’t move away._

_After dinner Victor put some slow music for them to dance to and dimmed the lights. They swayed together, holding each other close. Victor let his hand slide a little down Yuuri’s back, moving really, really slowly. It felt so right to be together._

I want to spend the rest of my life with you, _Victor thought._

_Yuuri put his head on Victor’s shoulder._

_Finally, as another song ended, Yuuri whispered, “I know you’re trying to seduce me, Victor Nikiforov.”_

_He blushed. “Is it working?” he asked, feeling like an idiot._

_Yuuri raised his head and looked into Victor’s face. “I don’t know. Why don’t you show me the bedroom so we can find out?”_

_Victor blushed deeper. He’d never heard Yuuri make such a bold suggestion before!_

_Feeling more and more foolish with every minute, he released Yuuri and motioned at the hallway. “This way, if you please.”_

_Yuuri giggled and led the way, taking Victor’s hand and turning back several times to look at Victor._

_As soon as they entered his room, Victor turned a lamp on and started to undo his shirt, but Yuuri caught his hands._

_“Let me. Please?”_

_Victor nodded and Yuuri undid the buttons of Victor’s shirt one at a time. When he got to the last one, he drew the two halves gently apart. For a fraction of a second he hesitated and then put his hands on Victor’s chest, sliding them down over his skin._

_Victor closed his eyes and breathed out._

_Yuuri helped Victor out of his shirt and then out of his pants. He hesitated a second time before pulling off his underwear. His fingers trailed over Victor’s skin as they took the underwear away, sending an excited shiver up Victor’s spine._

_Victor was sitting now. He looked up into Yuuri’s face, waiting to see what he would do next._

_Yuuri undressed himself slowly, turning his back to Victor as he set his clothes aside carefully. He took Victor’s face with both hands and kissed him, pushing him down onto the bed. Victor’s hands trailed down Yuuri’s back all the way to his thighs, which he pulled in closer._

_Victor’s bed was small and they joked between kisses that they’d have to be careful or one of them would fall off._

_It made switching very tricky. When Yuuri sat up and told Victor that it was his turn now Victor really did almost fall off. Yuuri laughed and Victor got his revenge by pressing a dozen or so kisses to the back of his neck._

_Afterwards they sat in front of each other, sliding their fingers over each other’s bare skin as if the sight of the other person’s naked body really surprised them._

_“I’m all yours,” Victor said softly._

_Yuuri cupped Victor’s face with his hand and kissed him in return._

_“Will you stay the night?” Victor asked, pressing his nose and forehead against Yuuri’s. Their mouths were mere inches away from each other. “Chris is sleeping somewhere else. You can stay here with me and then we’ll have breakfast together in the morning.”_

_“That’s sounds wonderful,” Yuuri whispered. “But how will we both fit on your bed?”_

_“Like this,” Victor pulled Yuuri down so that Yuuri lay on top of him. “Good night, dear Yuuri.” He slid his fingers over Yuuri’s hair, closing his eyes. “I love you.”_

_“Ditto,” Yuuri whispered back._

_Morning came and a ray of sunshine fell on Victor’s face, waking him up._

_He sat up abruptly. He was all alone! Where had Yuuri gone?_

_He peered into the bathroom, but it was empty._

_Victor returned to his room to get dressed and his eye fell on his pair of underwear, which lay on the table for some reason. What was it doing there?_

_He stepped up to it and saw that it had “Yuuri” written on it in blue pen._

_The sound of a kettle boiling drew him to the kitchen where he found to his great delight Yuuri, fully dressed and cooking breakfast._

_Yuuri turned at the sound of Victor coming in and blushed, seeing that Victor was still naked. “Good morning!”_

_Victor beamed in return. “Good morning!” He leaned against the doorway with his arms crossed over his chest and one eyebrow raised as if he was fully clothed. “Do I get to write my name on your underwear too?”_

_…_

_That evening Victor dropped by to pick Yuuri up, feeling exhausted after a long stressful day at work. He was looking forward to spending the evening with his boyfriend, pushing all thoughts of meetings and deadlines out of his mind._

_But when he came in he found Yuuri’s roommate in the kitchen while Yuuri himself was still getting ready in the bathroom._

_“I’ll wait in Yuuri’s room,” Victor told Yuuri’s roommate._

_The roommate just nodded._

_Victor never had trouble getting along with people, but for some reason he and the roommate hated each other from the moment they first met. That was why Victor didn’t even bother to try to make any kind of conversation._

_He entered Yuuri’s room and dropped into one of the chairs, feeling ready to fall asleep._

_Yuuri came in and Victor sat up straighter, all thoughts about naps forgotten._

_“Ah!” Yuuri exclaimed in surprise._

_He was in a sweater that was way too big for him, so big, in fact, that it slid off one of his shoulders, leaving it bare. More than that – his legs, barely covered by the sweater were completely bare._

_Victor was at Yuuri’s side in an instant. He rewarded the bare shoulder with a kiss as one of his hands slid under the sweater._

_“Victor!” Yuuri hissed. “He’s in the next room!” he reminded Victor, referring to his roommate._

_“Hmm…” Victor hummed against Yuuri’s neck. “I was hoping you weren’t wearing anything under this sweater…”_

_His hand trailed over the short denim shorts, looking for a way in._

_“I… uh… I knitted this sweater,” Yuuri said, trying to keep his voice steady in case his roommate was listening to what they were doing, “but I messed up and got it four sizes too big.” He suppressed a gasp, biting down on his lip as Victor’s hand found a way in at last._

_“I was going to suggest we get a hotel room, but I’m not sure I’ll make it there,” Victor whispered into Yuuri’s ear._

_“He’ll walk in on us,” Yuuri hissed back. “Please, Victor, can you let me go?”_

_Victor made a soft sound of protest and took his hands off Yuuri._

_“I thought I still had time to try it on,” Yuuri went on in a regular tone of voice. “But I think I’ll go change into something else.”_

_To Victor’s great disappointment, he did. But Yuuri kept the sweater, not having the heart to size it down or to get rid of it._

_…_

_The beach was completely empty, apart from two people who were all too happy to be left on their own._

_Victor lay on the sand with his arms raised. Yuuri was on top of him, kissing Victor like someone whose life depended on it._

_They’d wanted to go somewhere together. Victor wanted a few days by the beach and the most the two of them could afford was a weekend trip to the closest beach to New York they could find._

_They stayed at a little bed and breakfast, feeling as if they were eloping together._

_As soon as the sun rose Victor woke Yuuri up, talked him into pulling on a pair of swimming trunks and going out for an early swim together._

_They didn’t even make it to the water._

_Victor pulled Yuuri close and got pushed onto the sand in response._

_It wasn’t all that warm out. A strong wind blew from the ocean, but what did the weather matter when they could snatch a few days alone like this?_

_Yuuri sat up and Victor stared up at him. Victor knew he had sand in his hair, but he didn’t worry about it for long – Yuuri was smiling down at him._

_“Let’s go swimming,” Yuuri said, but Victor pulled him down again._

_“Let’s,” he said after another enthusiastic kiss._

_But Yuuri started another kiss, unable to find the strength to get up and go. The ocean could wait: it wasn’t going anywhere._

_Afterwards, when they finally pulled apart to go swimming, they spent the whole time exchanging happy smiles, as if congratulating each other on getting out here._

_It was like a honeymoon. They spent most of their time out on the beach, walking along the water’s edge, holding hands. At night they swam under the stars. In the daytime they shared an ice cream at a small empty ice cream parlour._

_The last evening of their little vacation found them on the beach as before. Yuuri sat on the sand, staring out wistfully at the water. Victor sat beside him, watching Yuuri’s expression and trying to guess his mood._

_“I was thinking…” Victor began after some hesitation, “why don’t we move in together?”_

_Yuuri turned his head and looked into Victor’s eyes. “You want to move in with me?”_

_“I do,” Victor confirmed. He shifted a bit closer to Yuuri until they just touched. “I want to do more than just spend more time with you. I want to live with you.”_

_Tears rose to Yuuri’s eyes. “Oh, Victor…”_

_“Did I say something wrong?” Victor panicked, moving away. “I didn’t mean to make you cry!”_

_“I’m happy!” Yuuri assured him and pulled Victor close. “I’ve never been happier in my life!”_

_They held on to each other, unable to let go._

_“I wish I could stop this moment and preserve it forever,” Yuuri admitted in a whisper. “I wish I could save it exactly like it is – with the beautiful sky overhead, and the dark ocean, and that salty taste in the air, and your warm hug.”_

_“You can,” Victor said and then considered this. “Well, sort of. You can capture some of it, if you take a picture.”_

_Yuuri laughed. “I don’t even have a camera!”_

_“That’s alright. I can buy you a simple one from one of the stores here.” Victor pulled his fingers through Yuuri’s hair, looking into his eyes. “And I’ll buy you a roll of film,” he whispered._

_Yuuri tried to protest, but Victor wouldn’t hear of it. He found a little corner shop that was open at all hours of the day and sold all kinds of little things, and bought a camera, just as promised._

_Knowing that the nighttime photo had a small chance of turning out well, Yuuri also snapped a photo the next morning. It showed Victor out on the beach with the ocean behind him and an expression of infinite happiness on his face._

_The picture later ended up in a little frame on his bedside table._

_…_

Two weeks after Victor Nikiforov officially died Victor Nikiforov made an interesting discovery: there was a way for the dead to come back to life.

He didn’t stumble it by accident. No, he spent almost a whole week searching for his answer, working night and day without stopping to rest, or eat. Being dead came with some benefits, after all. And, even then, he knew he was extremely lucky to have found his answer this quickly.

He walked through all of New York, seeking out every ghost to ask them what they knew. There were so many ghosts in the city. It surprised him at first that wherever he went he would always meet at least a dozen or so.

On his second day he ran into the most memorable of them all in.

 _“Hey, you! Get off my train!”_ a voice screamed.

Victor sat between two old ladies who’d fallen asleep. He turned his head, trying to figure out who the shout was directed at.

 _“You! I’m talking to you! You!”_ a voice went on.

Victor turned and saw a terrifying figure head straight at him. The man was young, no more than a teenager, and, yet, he radiated the anger of a big mob. He snatched a living old man’s newspaper and tossed it away, making the old man stare around in confusion, unable to understand why his newspaper just flew on its own. The young man then grabbed a kid’s plastic cup and tossed that too, spilling its contents all over the floor.

 _“Get off!”_ he demanded.

Victor trembled in fear, unable to move from his spot.

The angry ghost grabbed him and hauled him down the train all the way to the last carriage. He pushed Victor out one of the windows, holding him in place so that only his upper body was outside the train.

 _“Get out!”_ the ghost demanded.

Victor, still paralyzed by fear, said nothing. He trembled and it looked as if he was shaking his head.

A loud noise made Victor turn his head. A light blinded him, but his ears told him that a train was coming straight for him. He closed his eyes.

And the train passed straight through him. There was the unpleasant sensation of something moving through his soul and nothing more.

He pushed himself up into his train and towered over the angry ghost. _“No.”_

The ghost glared at him.

_“I said no.”_

The ghost stepped forward. _“This is my train. Get your own.”_

 _“I don’t want a train,”_ Victor said. _“I want you to teach me how you did that.”_

“Did what?”

Victor waved his arm. _“Moving things, actual things.”_

 _“So that’s what it is.”_ The ghost folded his arms over his chest. _“Why should I teach you?”_

 _“Because… Because…”_ Victor floundered. _“Because I will keep riding your train until you do it.”_

_“You’re a right bastard, aren’t you?”_

Victor waited.

 _“Fine,”_ the ghost grumbled.

 _“What’s your name?”_ Victor asked, relaxing a little.

The ghost gave him a wary look. _“Yuri.”_

_“Yuuri?”_

_“Yeah. What’s it to you?”_

Victor felt himself resonate with a whole mix of emotions from fear to love. He thought of Yuuri’s tears and pain now. He thought of all the happy times they’d had. _“I…”_ he began. _“My boyfriend’s name is Yuuri.”_

 _“You trying to flirt, or something?”_ Yuri asked with a disgusted look on his face.

 _“What? No! God, no!”_ Victor backed away.

_“Good. Now I don’t want to waste my time with you, so I’ll only show you how to do it once. Got it?”_

Victor nodded.

Yuri walked over to a newspaper someone had left behind on one of the seats. _“You take all your anger and you push it down into your gut, right here.”_ He motioned at his stomach. _“Well, you don’t have actual guts, but you know what I mean.”_ He glared at the newspaper as if it had personally offended him and then pushed it off the seat with his hand. _“Like that. Think you can be angry enough?”_ He turned to face Victor and for a moment his face softened.

It was the briefest of changes, making Victor think he’d imagined it.

 _“Ok. You try it.”_ Yuri said, pushing his hair out of his face and leaning against the side of the train.

Victor stepped up to the newspaper and concentrated. He tried to be angry with it, but it was just a piece of paper with words on it. In fact, the picture on the cover was a little bit funny.

 _Come on!_ he told himself. _I have to do this for Yuuri!_

But when he swung his foot it went straight through the newspaper, almost making him lose his balance.

Again!

Again!

Nothing.

He was starting to get really frustrated, truly angry, but still it wasn’t enough.

Yuri laughed. _“Look at you – too weak to kick a newspaper!”_

Victor tried again, but still it just wasn’t enough.

Just how much anger did it take?  He turned to look at Yuri. How much anger did the boy have? And why?

 _“Yuri,”_ he began cautiously, _“what happened to you? How did you die?”_

Yuri gave the newspaper an angry kick. _“Some bastard pushed me under the train.”_

 _“Pushed you?”_ Victor repeated, taking in just how young Yuri looked.

 _“Yeah. Pushed me,”_ Yuri repeated. _“What? You don’t believe me? You think I jumped? You think I fell?”_

Victor backed away.

Yuri advanced on him. _“I was pushed! I went before my time! I wasn’t supposed to die yet! I was barely in high school! You think I_ want _to haunt a train underground?”_

 _“N-no…”_ Victor stammered out.

 _“Who are you, anyway?”_ Yuri suddenly demanded. _“What do you want with me? Who sent you? Just leave me alone! Leave me the hell alone!”_

He ran away down the train, leaving Victor all alone in an empty train carriage.

Victor got off at the next stop and left the subway.

Yuri’s questions made Victor curious, so he asked around. Who could send people? And _what_ people? Special ghosts with some sort of mission? The answers sounded like a fairy tale, but gave Victor some hope.

There were forces out there capable of giving life to the recently dead. It was just a question of contacting them and persuading them to do it.

He thought of Yuuri then, of his grief and despair and he knew that he had to go back and let Yuuri know that there was hope for him. Yuuri had to know to wait for Victor.

The thought occurred to Victor just as he passed a big neon hand glowing in a window with the label “Psychic”.

He stopped and stared at the sign. Was it possible he’d found his answer? Feeling a mix of curiosity and hope, he slipped inside.

It was a little place. The front room was just big enough for a few chairs and some standing room. All the curtains on the windows were closed and the smell of burning incense filled the room. Four old people sat in chairs that weren’t much younger than them and waited for something.

The door opened and two young men dressed in black came in from the room next door.

“Sara Crispino?” one of them called.

One of the old ladies rose to her feet and followed the two young men inside. Victor came with them.

The second room was a little bigger than the first and had more old furniture. There was a round table in the middle with two empty chairs on opposite sides of it.

The two men led Ms. Crispino to one of the empty chairs and walked around the table to stand on either side of the empty chair with their eyes closed.

“Phichit Chulanont,” they called out in low voices together, “will you please join us? Grace us with your presence.”

They walked over to the closet and opened it to demonstrate how empty it was. One of the assistants waved dramatically at the inside as if it held something important.

Ms. Crispino stared in incomprehension.

Victor couldn’t help thinking that he was watching a cheap show with very bad actors.

The men closed the door and called again. “Oh, Phichit Chulanont, will you please come and help us question the spirits and find the truth?”

Victor heard a faint rumbling sound and stepped closer.

The door opened without either of the assistants touching it and a young man stepped out with the expression of a wise man who’d seen things no living mortal had ever seen. He couldn’t have been older than Victor. Phichit walked slowly to the other chair at the table. “Ms. Crispino,” he began slowly and seriously, “do you believe in spirits?”

Ms. Crispino rummaged in her back and pulled out a twenty dollar bill. “Oh yes! I wanted to contact my brother. You see, he passed away a month ago –”

One of the assistants took the money from her.

“We will help you contact your dear brother,” Phichit promised.

He closed his eyes and scrunched up his face. Everyone in the room went silent. They watched Phichit, waiting to see what he would do next.

Finally he opened his eyes and gave an exhausted sigh. “I can’t,” he admitted, “I can’t connect to the spirit world today.”

One of the assistants reached out to return Ms. Crispino’s money to her.

“No, wait!” Phichit exclaimed. “I’m getting something! Did your brother every know someone named… Antonietta?”

Ms. Crispino shook her head.

“Lucinda?”

Another shake.

“Maria?”

“Ah yes!” Ms. Crispino piped up. “Our mamma was Maria Crispino!”

“Yes!” Phichit cheered. “I knew he was with his mamma!”

 _“I don’t believe this!”_ Victor exclaimed.

Phichit looked around the room. Then he smiled at Ms. Crispino. “I will try to contact them now.” He closed his eyes again and slid his hands over the table.

This was just a stupid waste of time. Victor, frustrated that he’d wasted his time on a charlatan and certain that no one would hear him anyway, muttered, _“Why don’t you tell her that you need more money? Milk the poor lady for every cent!”_

Phichit opened his eyes. “Who said that?” he asked.

His assistants and Ms. Crispino all gave him puzzled looks.

“Said what?” one of them asked.

 _“What? You can actually hear me?”_ Victor asked, walking over to Phichit.

“Do you hear that?” Phichit asked the others.

They all shook their heads.

Victor, excited by this sudden discovery of one living person who could hear what he was saying, refused to let it go. _“If you can hear me, just say my name – Victor Nikiforov.”_

Phichit looked even more bewildered. “What?”

“We didn’t say anything,” one of the assistants hissed.

 _“Victor Nikiforov!”_ Victor called out and then repeated his name over and over again.

“What the hell is it?” Phichit demanded and searched the room. “Is it a TV next door? Where is it coming from?”

“What? What are you talking about?” the other assistant asked.

Phichit went silent and put his ear to the wall in different places.

The assistants were getting really worried now. Ms. Crispino snatched her twenty dollar bill back and retreated slowly towards the door.

Victor went on shouting his name like a madman.

“What is it? What do you hear? Tell us! Just tell us!” the assistants shouted, really terrified now.

Phichit turned and looked at them. “Victor Nikiforov.”

 

Phichit sat in the living room of the apartment above his store and listened to a ghost he couldn’t see chatter excitedly about ghosts in New York and about the love of his life haunting a train…

Just his luck! He had to discover his gift right in front of a customer!

He groaned. “My mother had it,” he muttered to himself, “and my grandmother too. They all assumed I didn’t have it. But I have no sisters, so maybe that’s why…”

The ghost – _Victor Nikiforov_ – went on, sounding like someone ready to burst from all the excitement.

“Yeah, yeah,” Phichit said in a tired voice. “Look, I know it must be great to have someone to talk to, but do you think you could maybe find yourself a ghost buddy, or something? I’m not good at talking to people I can’t see. Don’t even get me started on phone calls!”

Victor went silent. Finally he said, _“But I need your help! Didn’t you listen to anything I said? I have a boyfriend, a … a_ fiancé _, even!”_ Phichit could hear the blush in his voice and wondered if ghosts could blush. “He’s still alive and I want to be with him!”

“So why are you here? Go haunt him, or something,” Phichit made a dismissive wave as if it could get rid of the chattering ghost.

 _“Don’t you understand? Yuuri is still alive, but I’m dead!”_ the ghost wailed on.

“Yeah. Life is unfair.”

He heard Victor’s footsteps come towards him.

 _“Life!”_ he exclaimed. _“Life! I want to be alive again and I know how to do it!”_

Phichit sat up straighter. “Wait, really?”

“Phichit, you ok?” Guang Hong called from the kitchen.

He didn’t even waste his time answering such a stupid question. “If you come back to life to be reunited with you fiancé, wouldn’t that be the sweetest thing ever?”

He jumped up to his feet, getting all excited by the idea.

Phichit was a good person – never mind the fraud and all the cons he’d committed over the years – he thought about two people reunited and couldn’t help but exclaim “aw!” as he imagined their happiness. Besides, he always prided himself on being the best wingman out there

“When you get married, promise me I’ll get to be best man at your wedding!” Phichit exclaimed.

“ _Uh…_ ” Victor stammered out and fell silent.

“Or no deal,” Phichit declared.

“ _Alright_ ,” Victor agreed. Then he muttered something about a person named Chris, but Phichit wasn’t paying attention anymore.

He’d get to go to a wedding!

“So tell me,” he said, “you’re not the ghost of a famous person, by any chance?”

 

Evening stole over the city of New York.

Yuuri sat on a couch in his apartment with a little brown poodle curled up on his lap. His hand stroked the dog’s fur absent-mindedly.

Makkachin was a clever dog. He learned what was and wasn’t allowed with amazing speed. He could feel his owner’s grief and loneliness and got all affectionate, trying to make him feel better, trying to show him that he was there too. At night he slept curled up next to Yuuri. But the wound was deep and Yuuri wasn’t sure that a dog could ever help him heal.

His phone rang, startling them both.

Who was it? Was it Chris again? He called every day, but usually his calls came earlier than this and, besides, he’d already done his daily call that day.

Yuuri’s parents called a few times to ask if he wanted anything. He always gave the same answer: no.

 _I want Victor back,_ he thought, squeezing Makkachin in a tight hug.

Still the phone rang.

Maybe it was Victor’s parents. They’d called once and offered Yuuri help and money. They spoke like people who felt that they needed to do something, but had no idea what that something was.

They’d grieved together at the funeral, but the funeral was also the place where Yuuri had met them for the first time and he still wasn’t comfortable around them.

With a resigned sigh, he reached out and picked up the phone receiver. “Yes?”

“Is this Yuuri Katsuki?” a voice he’d never heard before asked.

“Yes.”

“I have a message from Victor Nikiforov.”

Yuuri dropped the receiver.

He climbed back onto the sofa and stared at the receiver lying on the floor as if afraid that it was about to explode.

Makkachin crawled onto Yuuri’s lap.

The call must’ve disconnected because after about a minute the phone rang again.

And again.

And went on ringing.

Makkachin growled at the phone. He could probably tell how much it terrified Yuuri.

The phone went silent.

Makkachin licked Yuuri’s hands and Yuuri pet him, unable to understand what was happening.

 

Victor paced Phichit’s living room in frustration. “ _You need to go talk to him in person_!”

“Yeah, that’s what I said in the beginning,” Phichit pointed out. “I’m sure my personal charm will do the trick.” He winked, but because he couldn’t see Victor, he ended up winking in the wrong direction.

Victor refrained from commenting.

Phichit grabbed his coat. “Let’s go.”

But even getting there in person didn’t help.

Phichit stood before the dial pad on the first floor of the apartment building and pushed the buttons Victor told him.

“Hello?” Yuuri’s voice called.

“ _Yuuri_!” Victor exclaimed, forgetting himself at the sound of that dear voice.

“Shush!” Phichit hissed at him. “He can’t hear you, remember?” he whispered. “Hello, Yuuri!” he exclaimed. “It’s Phichit Chulanont. I called you earlier with a message from Victor –”

The dial tone interrupted him and Phichit made a frustrated noise.

“ _What do we do now_?” Victor asked, starting to panic.

Phichit grinned. “I have an idea.” He walked out of the lobby and circled the building. “Which windows are his?” he asked.

Remembering that Phichit couldn’t see him, Victor explained as best as he could which were the right ones.

 

Was he going mad? Who was that stranger following him? Why wouldn’t he leave him alone?

Yuuri sat down on the floor and lowered his head onto his hands. His heart ached terribly. What had he done to that stranger that he had to be tortured like this?

Maybe if he gave him money, the man would just leave him alone.

“Hey!” Phichit screamed. “Yuuri! I know you can hear me! I need to talk to you! Come down here!”

Yuuri put his hands over his ears, but still he could hear that voice continue shouting.

“I know all about that photo of Victor on the beach! You know, the one that you keep in a frame on your bedside table? The one from your first trip together!”

Yuuri sat up. His heart beat fast.

 

“Give me something else,” Phichit whispered out of the corner of his mouth. “Something only you two would know.”

“ _Tell him about the sweater that he knitted. He messed up and made it four sizes too big_ ,” Victor suggested. “ _He still keeps it in his closet_.”

“I know about the sweater that’s too big! Four sizes! I know you didn’t throw it out and still keep it in your closet!” Phichit shouted at the top of his voice.

Still Yuuri wasn’t coming to the window.

Phichit stomped his foot in frustration. “What else?”

“ _Tell him about the underwear he wrote his name on_!” Victor exclaimed, shouting himself, forgetting that no one else could hear him.

“I know all about the underwear that you wrote your name on!” Phichit shouted. “How would I know that if Victor wasn’t really here with me right now?” He lowered his voice, “I want to hear the full story of that one later! I’m never going to let that one go!”

Victor chuckled.

“Hey! Do you hear me?” Phichit shouted.

“I can hear you!” a man shouted from one of the windows. He was one of the construction workers doing renovation work on an apartment on the second floor.

“Nobody’s talking to you,” Phichit answered.

“Did you ever hear of a phone?” the man asked, holding one hand up to his ear to imitate a receiver.

“Shut up!” Phichit snapped at him. “Yuuri! I’m not going to be here all day!”

“Thank god!” the man shouted back.

“You want to kiss my ass?” Phichit demanded. Seeing the man stare with his mouth wide open, he prepared to tell the man what he thought about people who got in the way of a conversation between two other people, but Victor called his name.

“ _Phichit, it’s Yuuri_!” he exclaimed and Phichit forgot about the annoying man.

Victor’s fiancé was a handsome young man with all the sadness of the world in his eyes. He was dressed in something very long and loose, but Phichit’s eyes were drawn back to his face.

“Hello,” Yuuri said shyly.

Phichit walked up to him with a smile and took both of his hands. “I’m so glad you came. I know exactly how to help you both!”

 

There was no smile on Yuuri’s face when he returned home two hours later, but the grief was lighter now. It was giving way to hope.

He undressed himself, took a shower and lay down on the bed, one hand sliding over the empty space beside him.

Could it really be true? Was it possible that he would get to be with Victor again?

 

But when Chris dropped by the next day and Yuuri told him about this most amazing thing that had happened to him, Chris gave him a sad look.

“It’s a nice story, certainly. We all wish we could get our loved ones back, but…” He sighed. “There are people who use this to their advantage: they prey on people like you who cling to hope and are willing to take any chance they can.”

Yuuri lowered his head.

“I’m sorry, Yuuri,” Chris whispered, putting an arm around him. “I wish it were true, for both our sakes, but…” he sighed again, “if someone ever came back from the dead, we would’ve heard about it by now.”

Tears rolled down Yuuri’s cheeks. He couldn’t help feeling as if he’d lost Victor a second time.

“Oh, Yuuri, promise me you won’t let this false hope take you over,” Chris went on, wiping Yuuri’s cheek with his hand. “Promise me you won’t talk to this seer again and do your best to move on.”

Yuuri pulled away and walked over to the couch where he dropped and gave in to his tears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don’t know if ao3 is eating comments, or not sending emails or breaking in some other way, but I’m starting to feel like I’m writing this fic solely for myself, which is a bit of a wild feeling, but oh well…  
> If you’re still reading this and feel like chatting: How is the weather where you are? Are you all taking care of yourselves? Anyone know any good jokes?


	4. Fantasies

More than a dozen candles burned in Yuuri’s art studio, filling it with a pleasant smell.

He stood in the middle of it, working on a big chunk of wet clay. Already some recognizable features stared out at him. The lines of Victor’s dear face were all there. Shadows fell in a way that made the face seem alive.

Yuuri resisted the urge to kiss the line of the sculpture’s mouth and continued to work.

Makkachin slept on the floor. Every once in a while he’d open one eye to see if his owner was still working, or if maybe it was time to finally go out for a walk.

 

There’s something about the way your loved ones see you. Maybe it’s merely in the way they look at you, or the way they remember little details about you like how many sugars you take in your tea or coffee, or what your favourite colour is. Maybe it’s simply in the way they remember every little detail of your appearance.

Victor watched Yuuri make a sculpture of him, unable to contain his own amazement.

He saw the way Yuuri trailed his fingers over Victor’s forehead and the softness in his eyes.

 _“Oh, Yuuri,”_ he said, remembering this time that the artist couldn’t hear him, “ _I’m so sorry_.”

Yuuri flirted with the sculpture as if it was really Victor. “Will you dance with me?” he asked before whispering, “You really don’t have to keep your hands to yourself, you know?” He raised his hand to his mouth and giggled.

Victor dropped into one of the chairs and lowered his head.

Yuuri was drunk. Victor could hear it in his voice. Yuuri moved around the sculpture in a kind of dance, reminding Victor of the day they had met. Yuuri had also been drunk then. It was only much later that Victor learned why.

 

_“Hello, gorgeous,” a voice purred into Victor’s ear and put an arm around his shoulders._

_Victor jumped a little in surprise. “Hello,” he stammered out weakly as his eye fell on the speaker._

_“Will your boyfriend mind, if I borrow you for a dance?” This stranger was everything Victor had ever fantasized about – tall, dark and handsome. Alright, tall was not as noticeable since Victor was just a little bit taller, but at that moment his knees were bending under him and he felt much shorter than the man draping his arm over him._

_The man smelled strongly of alcohol. Victor himself had downed a few drinks, but his head spun so much just then and there that he was no longer sure that it had just been a few._

_Wait! Hadn’t he asked something? Oh yes. “That’s – that’s,” he swallowed, embarrassed at the croak that had come from his own mouth and willed himself to do better. “That’s not my boyfriend.”_

_Having no date at the moment, he had come here with Chris, feeling that some company was preferable to none. Now he wondered if this had been a mistake. He turned his head to do the introductions only to discover that Chris had vanished in the past few minutes._

_He stared with his mouth open as the stranger continued to smile at him and cursed himself. What happened to him? He was always so good at chatting people up! He’d charmed half the campus at university, for crying out loud!_

_The stranger’s finger trailed under Victor’s chin. “Should I take that as a yes?”_

_“Yes!” Victor gasped out and blushed at how it sounded._

_“Do you have a name, or do people just call you handsome?” the stranger went on._

_Victor tried to match the stunning smile he was getting. “Victor.”_

_“Come on then, Victor,” the man said and gave a wink._

Only later did Victor learn that all of that bravado had been from the alcohol and that Yuuri was normally a shy, quiet man too stunning for anyone to dare to approach.

In the here and now Yuuri was sliding a finger over the chin of Victor’s sculpture and smiling in that same disarming way.

If Victor had still been alive, he would’ve pulled Yuuri towards the bedroom (or made a start: there was a very small chance of them actually making it there), but as a ghost there was little he could do but stand and watch. And feel his heart break.

He could do nothing as Yuuri continued to drink and stood helplessly when at last the drink won and Yuuri passed out on the floor.

Victor sat down next to him and held his hand just over Yuuri’s head.

Yuuri turned over and whispered Victor’s name before sinking deeper into sleep.

This was not fair. He ought to have been here with Yuuri! He ought to have had this moment when they could dance and drink together! Flirt together and then pass out side by side when the drink took them both out!

He felt anger burn inside him, frustrated about this moment he lost and how short their time together had been.

He remembered the teenager on the subway and rose up. He climbed the stairs up to their bedroom and walked through the rooms until he was standing in front of their bed. There he stopped and eyed it uncertainly.

He thought of that anger again, thinking of how unfair it all was, reminding himself of loving couples who lived to a ripe old age together. He thought of Yuri on the trains, gone far too early and his anger intensified.

Victor grabbed the blanket draped over the bed and tugged it off.

It was working! It was…

His hands passed through the blanket and he lost his balance. He tumbled to the ground in an undignified heap.

The sound of steps made him turn in fear, forgetting for a moment that he was a ghost and, therefore, invisible. He needed to hide! Which was better – under the bed, or in the closet?

The footsteps were almost upon him now. It was too late!

Makkachin trotted into the room and sat down, as though curious to see what would happen next.

Victor let out a sigh, or, rather – his soul made a sighing noise, forgetting that he did not need to breathe and, by extension, did not sigh.

He got up and tried again, but it was hard to focus on the blanket when there was a dog sitting behind him and staring in his direction.

Victor was not sure if dogs could see ghosts, but it unnerved him nonetheless.

 _“Come on!”_ he exclaimed. _“Come on!”_ The blanket was half off the bed now, but it kept slipping out of his grasp, making him lose his balance every single time. _“You stupid, stupid blanket!”_ he growled between his teeth.

People took much more for granted than he thought.

Makkachin came up to him, grabbed the blanket with his mouth and pulled it off the bed.

Victor stared in amazement before giving a little slap. _“Yes! Good dog, Makkachin!”_

To his surprise, it was easy to coax the dog into doing exactly what he’d meant to do himself and take the blanket down the stairs and into the art studio.

 

Yuuri awoke, feeling as though his mouth was full of glue. His tongue felt heavy and his cheek was stuck to the floor.

With a groan he managed to pull himself up. He blinked at his surroundings, unable to understand at first where he was. What was he doing on the floor of his art studio? He couldn’t remember and put it all down to drink. At least he’d been thoughtful enough to get himself a blanket, he thought, pulling it closer about himself. He spotted Makkachin lying curled up on the floor and reached out to absent-mindedly pet him.

“Good morning,” he whispered.

Makkachin raised his head and jumped on his owner, licking his face and making him laugh.

“I’m glad to see you too!”

 

Victor watched Yuuri make himself coffee and settle down to have breakfast. It was such a restful scene and for a moment Victor imagined the three of them were properly together.

“Chris says it’s just false hope,” Yuuri told Makkachin. He pushed his food around the plate with his fork, “but I think – it can’t hurt to try, can it?”

Makkachin gave a short bark, making Yuuri laugh.

The laughter quickly turned into tears and he crumpled in his chair, covering his face with his hands. “I don’t know what I will do, if it doesn’t work,” he admitted in a voice filled with so much pain that Victor felt as though someone had stabbed him in the heart. “I can’t go on without Victor, I just can’t.”

Makkachin came up to Yuuri and rose on his hind legs to rest his front paws on Yuuri’s knees.

Yuuri put his arms around Makkachin and whispered, “You’re a good boy.”

Days passed as Yuuri continued to work on his sculpture, taking breaks to go outside and walk Makkachin and run whichever errands needed doing.

It happened during one of these errands. Yuuri was standing in a long line at a cashier’s desk when the person standing in front of him turned around and made a joke.

Yuuri laughed.

The stranger smiled. “I’m glad it’s not just me stuck in this line,” he said. “It’s much easier to wait when there is someone to talk to.”

“Yeah,” Yuuri agreed. He glanced out the window to where he’d left Makkachin tied to a pole by a leash. Makkachin was waiting patiently for his owner.

“Especially someone as good-looking as you,” the stranger added.

Yuuri shifted uncomfortably. He eyed the cashier and then the doors, fighting the urge to make a run for it. Did he need groceries that badly? Surely he could go another day without milk?

The line moved up and it was the stranger’s turn now.

Yuuri suddenly felt very cold. And his imagination took over. For several blissful minutes he was happy once more.

 

_Someone put their coat over his shoulders. He turned and saw Victor standing just behind him. “You’ll catch a cold, if you’re not careful,” he said._

_Yuuri smiled and Victor put his arms around him._

“Next!” the cashier called and Yuuri rushed forward.

It was strange how many everyday things made him miss Victor. He wanted all of those small, ordinary moments. He wanted all that time that was his by right.

He paid for his groceries and walked out to get Makkachin.

Outside the sky was a clear blue and there wasn’t a single cloud in sight. He wondered if it was a sign not to lose hope, or just a sign that the universe cared very little for his suffering.

He passed a street of bright, colourful restaurants. Happy music drifted out of all of them, together with the delicious smell of food. He wished he had a date, or that he could turn to Victor and spontaneously decide…

 

_“Let’s eat out today.”_

_Victor laughed, pulled Yuuri close to his chest and whispered about eating into Yuuri’s ear, making the words sound as suggestive as possible._

_Yuuri turned a deep red. “And that too,” he agreed softly._

He didn’t notice himself slipping into these little fantasies after that. In the days that followed he had one imaginary conversation with Victor after another, from debating about breakfast to innuendoes that he was sure Victor would whisper into his ear in any given situation.

He became quieter, more reticent. He did not see anyone and hardly even talked to Makkachin anymore.

Victor didn’t notice the change until one morning when his eye fell on the calendar in the kitchen and he thought about what day it was. Then he tried to remember how long it had been since Yuuri last saw Chris, or any of their friends for that matter, and panicked. Hadn’t Chris promised to check up on Yuuri regularly? Had something happened to him too?

He considered running to fetch Phichit to sort it all out when the phone rang.

“Hello?” Yuuri called, raising the receiver to his ear. “Oh, hello, Chris! Sorry I hadn’t called in a long time… No, I’m alright. Just working on a new art piece… Uh, it’s not ready yet. I’d rather not show it to anyone until it’s finished. Sorry.”

Yuuri went on talking to Chris, but Victor let the sound of their conversation go past him. He circled the sculpture of himself and studied it critically. Yuuri was an exceptional artist, but how accurate was the sculpture? Did he really stand like that? Was that really how his back looked? And his hair?

The sculpture was almost complete. There were only the feet left.

Victor turned away and listened to what Yuuri was saying. It didn’t take long for him to work out that Chris was trying to convinced Yuuri to come with him and that he was winning the argument.

Victor wondered if he should follow Yuuri or stay here, when another idea occurred to him. He had been cooped up in the flat for too long himself. Perhaps one short trip to visit Phichit wouldn’t hurt.

He waited for Yuuri to hang up, deciding that it was better to make sure he met up with Chris and then go. He watched him fetch Makkachin leash and grab his keys before they both went.

Outside the weather was wonderful once more. The sun shone brighter than ever and it was warm enough that Yuuri pulled his jacket off and carried it in one arm.

“Yuuri!” Chris called out and Victor turned with a smile.

He had a new haircut and was wearing clothes Victor had never seen on him before. His appearance must’ve had the same effect on Yuuri, because he stared in open admiration, at a loss for what to say.

Chris laughed and turned around. “Like it?”

“It really suits you,” Yuuri told him. “But then, why am I surprised? You always dress well.” He gave a heavy sigh. “Just like Victor.”

There was an uncomfortable silence after those words and then Chris said, “The two of us must be the best-dressed bankers in the world.”

“You probably are,” Yuuri agreed.

Victor prepared to leave them to it when Chris reached out and pulled a hand through Yuuri’s hair, making the boy jump.

Yuuri backed away in embarrassment. “Chris? What?”

He laughed and Victor froze in fear. What was Chris doing? How dare he flirt with Yuuri? With _his_ Yuuri?

In the space of a few seconds Victor’s imagination made a big leap and painted him a very unpleasant picture. He remembered all those times he waxed on about Yuuri’s good looks and Chris had agreed. He recalled too late the intimate secrets he had shared, some of which were Yuuri’s and not his. He remembered clear as day those times when Chris told him that he was a very lucky man.

Chris had fallen in love with Yuuri and now that the way was clear he was making his move. Maybe Victor’s death hadn’t been an accident, maybe Chris had hired a killer to take him out. He would get Yuuri and the flat he’d admired and…

Victor’s head was spinning. Stabbed in the back by his own friend!

 _“How could you?”_ Victor growled. _“I’m your best friend! How could you take it all away?”_

He couldn’t protect Yuuri and now the innocent man was stuck with this killer.

Chris finished laughing. “Don’t look at me like that. Just wanted to ruffle your feathers a little.” He winked.

Yuuri flattened his hair down, all red with embarrassment.

“You looked so serious there, I was worried where the conversation was going,” Chris went on. He shrugged. “Come on, let’s go. There’s someone I want you to meet.”

“Who?” Yuuri asked, following at Chris’ side.

“My boyfriend,” Chris told him. “Don’t look so surprised. Aren’t I allowed to have one?”

“No – I mean: of course you are!” Yuuri stammered out. “I just… I didn’t know you had one.”

“I’ve been seeing him for six months now,” Chris explained. Then he leaned in close to Yuuri. “He’s a very handsome man, so do me a favour and try to look a little less charming. I don’t know how serious he is about me yet.”

“Chris, I’m sure –” Yuuri began, turning bright red once more.

Chris laughed again. “Just kidding! As handsome as you are, you won’t outdo me, I’m afraid. Sorry, Yuuri.”

The continued on in this way and Victor followed right behind them, not missing a word. His unease was starting to wear off, but he went with them anyway, determined to make certain that Chris’ boyfriend really existed.

Chris released Yuuri and ran as soon as he caught sight of a handsome man on the other side of the street.

“Hello, you!” he exclaimed, catching a kiss.

“Hello, Chris,” his boyfriend said, pulling away and then catching another kiss.

Victor reached for Yuuri without thinking, ready to put an arm around him only to feel it pass right through his body.

Yuuri stood still, looking very lonely. Tears gathered in his eyes and rolled down his cheeks.

Never in his life had Victor felt quite so helpless. He was never good at dealing with Yuuri’s tears. He hardly ever knew what to do, for a start, but here he was – completely unable to do anything at all.

Chris and his boyfriend were too lost in a world of their own to pay Yuuri any attention.

Yuuri tried to wipe the tears away and he tried to smile, but with no success. The tears refused to stop.

Finally Chris turned away from his boyfriend to do the introductions and saw that Yuuri was crying. “Yuuri…”

Yuuri crouched down and put his arms around himself.

Everyone stood around helplessly, except Makkachin who knew exactly what to do and licked Yuuri’s hands. He went on until Yuuri pulled him into a hug and held on tight.

“Yuuri, listen… I…” Chris began, but his boyfriend shushed him.

Finally Yuuri found the strength to get up. “Sorry, I…” he stammered out, aware that his eyes were red and that he’d broken down in the middle of the street in front of his friend and a complete stranger. “I…” he fidgeted, unable to form the rest of the sentence.

Chris put his arms around him. “How do you feel about grabbing something eat together? I know a place nearby that allows pets.”

Victor watched Yuuri take a deep breath and nod. He had to leave them to it. He had to trust Chris to do his best to cheer Yuuri up. The pain was getting so sharp now that he felt as though he was made up of pain and nothing else. Besides, he reasoned, he would only feel worse if he continued to follow Yuuri.

Knowing that Yuuri couldn’t hear him, he still couldn’t resist looking at him and saying, _“I will come back. Just give me a little time. I promise to come back to you.”_

He walked off, feeling a little foolish, but then he saw Yuuri look around himself.

“What’s wrong?” Chris asked.

“For a moment, I thought I heard something,” Yuuri said. He placed a hand over his heart. “And it doesn’t hurt as much here, for some reason.”

Chris gave Yuuri a sideways hug.

Victor walked away slowly, stopping several times to turn around and stare at Yuuri.

He went through the streets this time, not wishing to risk the subway and running into Yuri again.

When he arrived he didn’t recognize the place at first. The little waiting room was packed with people. Most of them were little old ladies, but there were a couple of younger people too.

Victor stopped at the door, remembered when he came in he found Phichit sitting at the table with the same woman as last time.

“And who is it that you wish to speak to?” Phichit asked in a slow tone that was meant to sound majestic, but only made Victor chuckle softly.

“My brother,” the woman answered.

Victor tried to remember her name, but he was suddenly all too aware of the number of people in the room. What were they all doing here? Didn’t Phichit receive his customers one at a time? Just what was going on?

“Your brother,” Phichit repeated. “Tell me, oh spirits, is Miss Crispino’s brother among you?”

A young man with short hair rose to his feet. _“That’s me,”_ he announced, _“Michele Crispino.”_

“Is your brother’s name… Michele?” Phichit asked, remembered to pause dramatically before saying his name.

“Oh yes!” Miss Crispino exclaimed. “I have a very important message for him. Can you relay it to him?”

Victor’s eyes went from one sibling to the other.

Michele was at his sister’s side in an instant. _“Tell her I’m listening,”_ he said to Phichit.

“Your dear brother’s departed spirit is here with us,” Phichit translated for Miss Crispino’s benefit.

“Good,” Miss Crispino sat back and looked around the room, as though expecting to see him standing in the corner of the room. The action looked even stranger because her brother’s spirit was standing right behind her. “Go away, Michele,” she said sharply. “Stop haunting me. It’s my life and I can do what I want with it. I want you to leave me in peace and let me live it!”

Victor stepped back at the sharp tone of her voice. It was clear that if Michele had been able to argue with her, she wouldn’t have accepted anything he said.

Still Michele attempted to protest. “Sara, I –”

But Sara continued to speak as though she somehow knew that he was trying to defend himself. “I know it’s you. I’m your sister, so of course I know when my brother is around! Go away and find somewhere else to be, or I’ll find an exorcist!” With that last remark she rose, slapped a 20 dollar bill on the table and walked out.

“On that note, I’m going to call it a day,” Phichit declared and rose.

“But –” Michele tried to protest again.

“I said _out_!” Phichit snapped.

Everyone in the room turned away with a disappointed murmur and walked out through the walls with the air of people who couldn’t be bothered with annoying things like doors.

Victor remained where he was. He hadn’t come all this way only to be shown the door.

 _“He means it,”_ Michele told him as he walked out.

There was a short silence and Victor walked over to Phichit. The psychic dropped back down into his chair and covered his face with his hands.

 _“Are you alright?”_ Victor asked.

“You’re back?” Phichit said softly. “So he hasn’t done it, then?”

 _“He’s working on it,”_ Victor assured him.

Phichit made an exasperated noise. “I thought I could reunite people with their loved ones. I thought I could make them happy and put them at ease.”

 _“While swindling them out of their money?”_ Victor added, remembering the lies Phichit had told when they’d first met.

Phichit laughed. “I never said I was doing charity work.”

 _“I suppose not,”_ Victor agreed.

“Anyway, I’ll bet you didn’t come all this way to listen to me rant. Did you want something?” Phichit asked, rubbing the table cloth with his thumb. “Come to ask me for another favour?”

Victor shook his head and remembered that Phichit couldn’t see him. _“No, I wanted someone to talk to. I was worried I’d go mad if I didn’t.”_

“Can ghosts go crazy?” Phichit asked.

Victor had seen so many incredible things after his death, that he doubted that anything could surprise him. _“I have a feeling that they can.”_

Victor thought again of the angry teenager on the subway. He wasn’t crazy, just very angry, but for some reason the conversation had triggered that particular memory. There had to be something he could do for that poor boy, he suddenly thought. He remembered Sara’s threat of an exorcism. No, that would not do. There had to be something better than that. But what?

He followed Phichit up into his flat where they sat together and chatted. Victor got so carried away that he lost track of time completely, a fact which he only discovered when the clock on the wall struck midnight.

 _“It’s really late!”_ Victor exclaimed. _“I need to go.”_

Phichit gave the clock a disinterested glance. “Past your bedtime? Or do you have some kind of curfew?”

But Victor didn’t bother with any excuses. _“I’ll come talk to you later! Good night!”_ he shouted as he dashed out of the room.

“Yeah…” Phichit agreed and made for the kitchen where he poured himself a drink.

Victor ran through the streets, feeling panic rise inside him. He was supposed to look after Yuuri! What if something had happened to him? What then?

He didn’t ask himself what he could have done, if something had happened. The important thing was that he wasn’t with Yuuri right now when he really, really needed to be.

When at last he did arrive in their apartment he found Yuuri asleep in the bedroom with Makkachin curled up under the blankets next to him. The sight brought a smile to Victor’s face and then he tiptoed back down to look at the sculpture Yuuri had been working on.

He found it looking complete. The feet were now exactly like his own. He circled the sculpture, giving it a thorough scrutiny, but it seemed to be all there.

Yuuri had finished it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long absence on this fic! I promise I'm going to finish it (just one chapter to go)!
> 
> I can't believe it's been 6 months since I last updated this fic...


	5. An Exchange

_We are all made of clay, nothing but clay._

Victor stepped into the statue and into a deep darkness. He looked around himself, but there was nothing there, only a darkness that seemed to go on forever. A wave of panic engulfed him. They’d done something wrong. Those instructions were lies. What if all he managed to do was trap himself inside the darkness forever?

It was cold in the darkness. He thought he could feel it seeping into him, ready to swallow him up.

 _“Is there anyone there?”_ It was a foolish question, but he had expected someone.

The sound of footsteps followed after his call and a young man appeared out of the dark. He carried a staff in one hand that had bells at the top which jingled with every step. _“I am here,”_ he said.

Victor stared at him, at a loss for what to say. No one had told him to expect someone. He’d only called out because the darkness was frightening him and he’d hoped to find someone who could help explain what had happened.

His surprise and confusion must’ve appeared on his face, because the newcomer explained, _“You are standing at the passage between two worlds. I am the guardian of this passage.”_

At the sound of those words Victor studied the man more closely.

He wore long robes of a colour he could not name. The best description he could think of was dusty purple. There was silver embroidery in his clothes that traced out complicated patterns that looked like writing in another language.

Victor smiled politely and did his best to sound amiable. _“I’d like to cross…please.”_

The man stepped up to him, hitting whatever they were standing on with his stick and making a jingling noise with every other step. _“And what makes you think that I will let you pass?”_ he asked, punctuating every word with a step.

Victor stood still, not knowing how to answer this question. No one had told him about this. “You need a new body,” his informant had told him, “somewhere for your soul to be.”

He thought a sculpture would be good enough. Now he wondered if he had misunderstood what they had told him. Maybe it hadn’t been a suggestion, maybe it had been nothing more than a statement of fact. A soul without a body was lost.

No, he couldn’t believe that. He had to keep hoping that there was a way out for him. Otherwise all of Yuuri’s efforts would have been in vain.

 _“Yuuri worked hard to bring me back. I have never done anything wrong. I was hoping…”_ he lowered his head, _“…for a second chance.”_ He tried not to wince at how terrible it had all sounded. What sort of argument was that? Why couldn’t he sound more convincing? His and Yuuri’s happiness hung on what he said!

The guardian of the passage hit the ground with his staff once more. _“And I suppose you think you are more deserving than all those other who had died?”_

Victor did not dare raise his eyes. _“I do not think that.”_

For a while the guardian was silent.

Victor, who now expected to be sent back or onwards to the next life, raised his eyes and looked at the guardian. He was regarding Victor thoughtfully.

 _“I see,”_ he said after a while. _“It seems you are very lucky – chance has let you stumble into one of our clerical errors.”_ He pursed his lips and Victor couldn’t suppress the feeling that with just one look the guardian had seen into the depths of his soul right down to everything he’d ever done, or even thought of doing.

 _“Very well then,”_ the guardian agreed, _“I will grant you passage,”_ Victor’s heart leapt with joy, _“but in exchange you must correct our mistake. Do you give your word to do it?”_

 _“Of course,”_ Victor agreed. _“Thank you, but I –”_ he was about to ask what error the guardian was referring to, but it was too late.

The guardian raised his arms and uttered words in a language Victor couldn’t understand. Bright light flooded the darkness, blinding Victor and making him gasp in surprise.

 

Victor awoke. After several seconds of lying still he figured out that he was lying in a bed. He turned over, expecting to see Yuuri next to him, but the bed was barely large enough to hold him and he nearly tumbled over the edge.

He struggled for several minutes before at last he succeeded in returning to the middle of his bed. He sat up and tried to make sense of where he was.

The room was the one he’d always slept in, in his old apartment, which he’d shared with Chris before he moved in with Yuuri. Why was he here?

He spotted the calendar on the wall and rose to his feet to look at it. For some reason, the page was showing February, not March.

New thoughts flooded his brain then as other thoughts slipped away. He was supposed to move in with Yuuri next week. How could he have forgotten? The strange dream he’d had must’ve really confused him. What had he dreamt about, again?

He couldn’t remember.

Well, whatever it had been, it wasn’t important.

The human brain has an incredible capacity for forgetting anything particularly out of the ordinary, or coming up with a reasonable explanation for it. In Victor’s case all of that knowledge slipped out of his head, leaving him only with the vague feeling that he had forgotten something important and that there was something he had to do.

Hadn’t Yuuri asked him to go do something? Of course, that’s what he forgot!

He got out of bed and got ready to go out. It was Saturday, which meant that while he had no work Yuuri was busy elsewhere. They’d meet in the evening sometime, but before then he needed to go do what Yuuri had asked him.

If someone had sat Victor down then and demanded to know what this mystery errand was, he would’ve found it impossible to answer, but – for some reason – he knew exactly where he needed to go even though he was at a loss as to what to do.

Once he was ready he went down into the subway station and took the train for two stops before getting out again and standing on the platform, as though waiting for something to happen, or for someone to come and meet him.

The train left and the platform emptied as the people who had gotten off the train with him left the station. Slowly other people began to trickle in, arriving in small groups, some of them glancing at the tracks, as though hoping to see some sign of the next train arriving.

A boy stood apart from everyone else. His light blond hair caught Victor’s eye and then it occurred to him that there was something familiar about that boy.

But he had no time to wonder where he could’ve possibly seen him. His eye fell on the girl standing just behind the boy and he saw the hatred in her face. She didn’t look much older than the boy and there was nothing about her features which made her memorable. She made no strange gesture, said nothing, but Victor was suddenly very certain that as soon as the next train entered the station she would push the boy in front of it.

“Look out!” he called out and ran.

He heard the train coming and saw the girl reach out with both hands. He was too far. He wasn’t going to make it! There were so many people in his way. He moved around them, trying not to lose speed. He was moving as fast as he could, pushing his body onwards despite its protests.

He saw it play out in slow motion before him – her hands coming in contact with the boy’s back as she pushed and the boy lost his footing, and –

Victor couldn’t stop now. He pushed the boy ahead of him, trying to grab him at the same time and keep him moving towards the train.

“What?” the boy exclaimed and turned around, fixing Victor with an angry stare. “What the hell are you doing? You nearly killed me!”

The train pulled in and stopped. Victor turned his head and watched helplessly as the would-be murderer slipped into the crowd and disappeared into the train with them. The doors closed and the train left.

The boy grabbed Victor by the arm. “Hello! Are you listening to me? What the hell is your problem?”

“Someone was trying to push you in front of the train,” Victor explained, suspecting that the boy wouldn’t believe him. “It was a girl. Sorry, I don’t know who she was and I don’t think I can describe her. She had dark hair and dark eyes, I think.”

The boy stared at him in stunned silence.

“I… uh I was running from the other side of the station,” Victor went on, trying to make his story sound more believable. “I was worried I wouldn’t make it in time.”

At last the boy spoke. “You saved my life.” His voice shook and Victor had to stop himself from putting his arms around him.

“It was… It was nothing,” Victor assured him. “I couldn’t just stand there and watch her push you, not when you are… you know…” He tried to smile. “Still just a kid.”

“I’m not a kid!” the boy snapped.

The next train began to enter the station and the kid turned away. “I gotta go. I’ll…” He stopped. “I don’t even know your name!”

Victor laughed. “Next you’ll be asking for my card,” he joked. “Here it is anyway. Lucky I had it on me.” He handed the boy his card. “I’m Victor. You better hurry up, or you’ll miss your train.”

“Right.” The boy made a dash for the doors.

Victor remembered his fear and running to save the boy’s life. “Be careful around trains!” he called.

The boy passed through the doors and turned. “My name is Yuri!” he shouted back.

The doors of the train closed and the train pulled out of the station.

 _What was that?_ Victor wondered. _Why on Earth did I give him my card? What does a kid need to call a banker for?_

His head hurt and he rubbed his temples, hoping that would ease the pain somewhat. It was stress, that’s what it was. He was stressing over moving in with Yuuri and it was making him to mad things.

He shook his head at himself and went home, not stopping to wonder at the reason he had come all this way in the first place.

 

The days that followed passed in a whirl. Yuuri and Victor had the furniture to sort out and to decide on which of their things they’d keep and which they’d throw away.

Their first official night together in the apartment that was all theirs was less romantic than Victor had hoped for: they’d been too exhausted by all the little things they needed to do for the move that by the end of the day they dropped down on the bed next to each other and fell asleep.

Morning came as many mornings do – creeping into the room slowly. Sunlight entered the room and hit Victor’s face, waking him up and not letting him go back to sleep. He got up, crossed the room and pulled the curtains closed.

Victor walked back to the bed, intending to return to sleep when his eye fell on Yuuri.

The man slept on his back, wearing a shirt and nothing else. At some point the blanket – as blankets often do – had ended up under him instead of on top of him.

Victor smiled and leaned over Yuuri, giving him a gentle kiss on the cheek. His face was so soft that Victor couldn’t just give him one kiss and had to give him a second one, which lead to a third one. His touches were brief – he feared waking Yuuri while at the same time he just couldn’t stop.

 _I need to let him sleep,_ he told himself and with a great effort of will he raised his head.

“Hmmm…” Yuuri mumbled, shifting in his sleep.

 _Oh, Yuuri! I’m so sorry!_ Victor thought, putting his hands over his mouth.

Yuuri opened his eyes slowly and smiled sleepily at Victor. “Good morning.” His eyes closed.

Victor reached down and brushed some hair out of Yuuri’s face.

“Kiss me,” Yuuri whispered.

“Don’t you want to go back to sleep?”

Yuuri smiled wider. “This is the best alarm I’ve ever had.”

Placing a hand on either side of Yuuri. Victor leaned down and kissed him on the lips. It was a kiss halfway between asleep and awake, as though they were both in a dream.

Wasn’t this a bit like a dream? Living together at last, waking up at each other’s side.

Yuuri broke the kiss and whispered, “Please tell me that you left the lube somewhere nearby.”

Victor chuckled, resting his forehead against Yuuri’s as he pulled Yuuri’s shirt up. “It’s in the bag I left on the floor.” He raised the shirt above Yuuri’s chest and rubbed his right thumb over Yuuri’s heart. “We can do whatever we want now. I could have sex with you all day long.”

Yuuri shook his head at this. His hands rose and he took Victor’s face with both of them. “No, the movers will be here at noon. What time is it now?”

There was no avoiding it now. Victor pulled away and went hunting for his bag. Apart from the bottle of lube, he’d also left his watch inside it. He checked it now.

“10 o’clock.”

Yuuri sat up, watched Victor pull a small bottle out of the bag and dropped onto his back again. “We need to get all the furniture in today. I don’t want to spend another weekend –” his breath caught in his throat as Victor turned him gently over and began to rub his hands over him, “– moving furniture,” Yuuri finished after a long pause.

Victor rubbed his hands over Yuuri’s back, moving them slowly and watching Yuuri struggle for air. He wanted more mornings like this. He didn’t dare hope for every morning to be like this, but he wanted more of them, mornings when they weren’t in a hurry and could give each other all the attention they craved, mornings when he could get Yuuri to gasp his name while knowing that in a half hour or so Yuuri would return the favour.

He wanted the chance to study Yuuri’s body and learn what he liked best. He wanted to have lots of those intimate moments that would be theirs alone. And he wanted many more moments that followed after they had sex when they’d gently caress each other, relaxing into each other’s touch.

He knew he wouldn’t get an eternity with Yuuri, but he wanted decades of this and he was determined to treasure every second.

Yuuri lay with his back against the pillows, his legs spread apart and Victor lay between them, his head resting against Yuuri’s chest. He looked up into Yuuri’s face. Yuuri’s hands were stroking Victor’s shoulders.

“I love you,” Victor whispered.

“Ditto.”

Victor closed his eyes and gave a long sigh.

“The movers will be here soon,” Yuuri whispered.

Victor reached out with his eyes still closed and stroked Yuuri’s thigh as though he cared very little about a bunch of strangers showing up in their apartment.

“We need to shower before they get here,” Yuuri reminded him.

This caught Victor’s attention. He sat up and turned to give Yuuri a sly smile.

Yuuri blushed. “Next time,” he promised. He slipped free and made for the bathroom, leaving Victor to stare after him. It was some time before he realized that he was also blushing.

By the time the movers came they were ready, but there were still too many things for them to move so that by the end of the day they agreed that Yuuri would work with them on Monday to get all of his artwork into the apartment.

That was why when Victor came home the next day he found Yuuri reaching out of the window, a mere inch away from plummeting down to the street below, as something swung outside, just out of his reach. Victor dropped his things and ran over to grab Yuuri around the waist and pull him inside before he could lose his balance.

“You frightened me!” Yuuri exclaimed.

 _I didn’t want to see…_ The words got caught in Victor’s throat and he found that he couldn’t say them. He paled and caught Yuuri’s lips in a kiss instead.

“Sir, what do we –” one of the movers called out.

Victor and Yuuri released each other and Yuuri jumped out of Victor’s arms to give more instructions to the movers.

Victor watched three people struggling to get a wooden statue of an angel into the apartment through the window and an idea occurred to him. If he held on to the upper frame of the window, he could give the statue a strong kick and it will swing away and back for all of them to catch.

He was about to do it when his eye fell on the statue’s face.

He couldn’t explain why, but there was something familiar about it as if it had the features of someone he’d once met, but since forgotten and he knew then that he couldn’t bring himself to kick it.

It took a lot of struggling, but they managed to get the statue into the apartment in the end. Chris came and the three of them exchanged jokes and teased each other, but still Victor couldn’t shake the feeling that for a moment he’d stood at the edge of a deep pit and had only just avoided tumbling down into it.

Night came to the city. He and Yuuri sat in bed, side by side with each other, each of them reading something. Victor was holding a book about dogs in his hands, but he wasn’t taking in a single word on the page before him. His eyes were on the picture of a golden retriever, but his mind was still on that statue. Why did it feel as though he knew who it was?

“What are you think?” Yuuri’s voice roused him from his thoughts.

Victor raised his head. “Just…” he cast about for something to say, “you know it’s all this – moving in with you, my sudden promotion. There are so many good things happening to me at the same time that I can’t help wondering what I’d…” His voice trailed off. He was suddenly very certain that he’d been here before and said those words to Yuuri. He blinked and saw the mixture of fear and worry on Yuuri’s face. “Guess I’m just scared that the bubble will burst,” he finished.

Yuuri took Victor’s hand and traced the lines on it with his finger. “Don’t say that,” he whispered.

Victor put a hand around Yuuri and brought him close for a kiss. He tried to calm his own heart down, but still it went on beating fast as though he’d just run a marathon.

“I want us to be happy together,” Yuuri whispered, tracing a circle out with his finger on Victor’s chest. “You deserve to be happy and I will do my best to deserve it too.”

Victor kept his arms tight around Yuuri. “I will work hard to deserve this happiness,” he promised.

They relaxed into the pillows together. Yuuri’s rested on Victor’s shoulder. One of his legs slid against Victor’s and Victor let his hand trail down Yuuri’s back, over the curve of his buttocks and onto his thigh. He heard Yuuri’s breath catch in his throat and pretended he was falling asleep and not getting all excited.

Yuuri pressed a kiss against his neck. “Sleep,” he whispered, but his breath tickled Victor’s cheek and made the colour rise to his face.

“Good night,” he whispered back. “Please protect me from danger.” He said the words half-jokingly, the fear still there in the back of his mind.

“I will,” Yuuri whispered back, sounding serious.

 

The week swept by in a blur and before Victor could get used to the idea of coming home from work to find Yuuri waiting for him it was Friday.

It was his last hour at work and Chris was sitting in the free chair in Victor’s office, talking about his plans for the weekend. Victor half-listened to him, his mind on Yuuri as his eyes kept drifting over to the clock on the wall, willing it to go faster.

“And what about you?” Chris asked.

“Hm? What?” Victor asked, startled out of his thoughts by the question.

“Do you and Yuuri have any interesting plans?” Chris clarified. There was that smile on his face that suggested that he knew that Victor had plans and that there was nothing innocent about them.

Victor smiled and rubbed the sleeve of his shirt absent-mindedly with his finger. It was the shirt Yuuri had given him as a present to celebrate them moving in together at last. “I thought we’d take it easy, you know?” He saw the look on Chris’ face and added, “Enjoy our new apartment.” His meaning had been very innocent, but too late he realized just how the words had sounded.

Chris burst out laughing.

Victor raised his hands in a gesture of surrender to show that he wasn’t going to argue this time. “Anyway, Yuuri wanted us to go see a movie together.”

“Oh. Well, I suppose you can spare two hours out of forty-eight,” Chris joked and Victor shook his head.

The phone on Victor’s desk rang.

“Oh great!” Victor exclaimed, rolling his eyes. “That’s just what I need – a phone call at 4:30 pm on a Friday!”

“You can always let the answering machine get it and deal with it on Monday morning,” Chris suggested. “Just pretend you already left.”

“I can’t do that,” Victor said miserably. “Here’s hoping it’s something quick.” He picked the phone up.

“Good luck,” Chris mouthed to him.

“Hello?” Victor said into the receiver. “Victor Nikiforov here. How can I help you?”

“It’s me,” a familiar voice said. “I-I mean it’s Yuri. From the train station. I’m the person who –” He paused, considered how to finish that sentence and then gave up on it altogether. “Anyway, I told my parents about… What you did and they insisted that I call you back and invite you to dinner on Saturday with them and with me and…” He hesitated. “Look. I don’t know if you want to come. It’s just a stupid dinner. It’s not mandatory, or something.”

Saturday was when he and Yuuri had planned to go see that movie. The movie itself hadn’t been important. It had simply been something that the two of them had decided to do to take a break from the move.

Yuri wanted Victor to agree. He could hear it in the boy’s voice. He certainly did his best to hide it, but it was there.

“Of course,” Victor said. “Yuuri and I will be glad to come.” He smiled. “Yuuri is my…” for a moment he debated which was the right word to use, “…fiancé,” he completed at last.

This earned him a raised eyebrow from Chris.

“Right,” Yuri said. “I’ll see you both on Saturday.” He rung off, leaving Victor to stare at the receiver in silence for several moments before at last he put the phone back down.

“Change of plans?” Chris asked with a smile.

Victor nodded. “Yeah. I just accepted an invitation for both Yuuri and myself. I hope he doesn’t mind missing the movie. It was then that Victor realized that he’d gotten no address for where to go.

The phone rang a second time.

 

Yuuri and Victor had Friday evening and Saturday morning to themselves. There were chores that needed to be done, but neither of them was in the right mood for doing any of them.

Evening came, bringing with it a heaviness the likes of which Victor had never experienced before. He stepped to the window and looked out at the sky.

“What’s wrong?” Yuuri called from the other side of the room where he was getting dressed.

“I just feel so… heavy. Like a storm is about to break out,” Victor explained. “But the sky is clear.”

“Maybe there will be a storm overnight, or tomorrow,” Yuuri suggested, buttoning up his shirt and walking over to Victor to join him by the window.

Victor stepped up behind him and placed his hands over Yuuri’s shoulders. “Can you feel it?”

Yuuri closed his eyes and leaned back into Victor’s touch. He breathed in slowly. “I can’t,” he whispered after a long silence.

Victor reached down and kissed him. Yuuri placed his hands over Victor’s as he responded.

For a moment Victor thought it was raining outside, but it had been nothing more than his imagination.

Yuuri pulled away gently from the kiss. “I think…” he whispered. He cleared his throat. “If we don’t go now, we’ll never make it.”

Victor’s hand trailed down Yuuri’s cheek. “I love you.”

Yuuri took Victor’s face with both hands and pressed a quick kiss against his mouth. “Ditto,” he whispered and then, in an even lower voice as though afraid someone would hear him he added, “I mean I love you too.”

Outside a wind was beginning to pick up and the temperature dropped. Perhaps there had been a storm somewhere nearby.

Victor watched Yuuri in admiration, not paying any attention to where they were going.

After a long while when Victor thought they were nearly there Yuuri stopped and gave his surroundings a puzzled look. “I think we took a wrong turn somewhere.”

“Oh.” Victor tore his gaze away from Yuuri. “I guess we’ll have to ask someone for directions.”

Yuuri laughed. “Who will you ask?”

Victor spotted a figure at the next corner. “That man over there.” He strode off, holding Yuuri’s hand.

The figure at the corner stood with a small sign that begged the world to lend a helping hand. Victor searched his pockets for some change and dropped a handful of coins into the beggar’s upturned hat.

“Can you please help us? I think we’re lost,” he admitted. “We’re looking for Horse Street. It should be around here somewhere.”

The beggar pointed down the street. “Keep going until the traffic light and then make a right.” He looked them both up and down. “Don’t turn earlier than that,” he warned.

“Why not?” Victor asked.

“Because you’ll get lost,” was the reply.

They made for the traffic light. Just as they were getting close to it the sound of gunshots tore through the air.

“Where do you think it’s coming from?” Yuuri asked in a terrified whisper.

“That direction, I think,” Victor answered with a vague gesture and then realized why Yuuri had asked the question. Was the sound coming from the direction of their apartment? He couldn’t say for sure and the only way to check was to go back, but it was too late for that now.

“Maybe it’s in a different street,” he said. “It’s these buildings: the sound bounces off them, so it could be in a different direction entirely.”

Yuuri said nothing.

There was that feeling again: as though there was a storm near them and they were walking around it. It hung in the air until they got to the traffic light and made a turn. Then the heavy weight lifted. The storm passed and the metaphorical horizon became clear again.

Several blocks away, the beggar who had given them directions became taller. His robes took on a dusty purple colour and silver embroidery spread over them like ink. A staff appeared in his hand and he disappeared from the street, leaving only the sound of faint jingling behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, leaving comments and kudos!
> 
> It's kind of sad that this fic was originally written for Spooky Week (for Halloween) and here I am finishing it in May. At least it's done, right?
> 
> Coming up next: updates to [Eros and the Bunny](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17789651/chapters/41972018)! Here's hoping it won't take me long to finish that fic and write the next one.


End file.
